


Tales of a Dreambender

by Lady_Phenyx



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence, Multi, Off Screen Violence, Transcendence AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:32:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 129
Words: 226,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2709113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Phenyx/pseuds/Lady_Phenyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one shot short fictions for the Transcendence AU, ranging from serious to silly to excerpts from Trashy Romance Novels (aka fanfic of fanfic).</p><p>Each chapter/one shot will have a summary at the beginning of the chapter along with appropriate warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paranormal Research Agency File – Subject 24601, code name 'Alcor'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Paranormal Research Society, emboldened by their previous successes in summoning and binding demons for research purposes, tries their most ambitious summoning to date - Alcor the Dreambender.
> 
> Warnings for suggestions of violence.

The candles were in place – unscented, as even the most basic of research said Subject 24601, known by the name 'Alcor', the Dream Bender, the Twin Star and a host of other titles all listed, tidy and neat, in his file, couldn't stand the scented ones and would at times simply leave the circle as soon as 'he' smelled them. 

The summoning circle had been gone over three times by three different teams to ensure all the marks were correct, as had the binding circle – the strongest binding circle of enslavement that had ever been created, said to have even held Izolelp the Ever-Hungry, Devourer of Nations, at the height of 'his' power.

The electric generator was humming, poles it was connected to sparking and ready. The crystals and iron were placed precisely along key points of the circle, cameras placed to record every angle, the cold iron and binding rune engraved restraints and holding cell ready.

Now all they needed was the demon.

Years of research and capturing lessor demons for the government all lead up to this moment. There could be no foul ups, not now.

 

The candles flared, smoke billowing inside the circle. Blue flames swirled and rose, Alcor the Dream Weaver emerging from within the depths.

He opened his mouth, about to speak, when the circle he was in appeared to register. 

His eyes widened and the agent in charge hit the switch, activating the sprinklers. Holy water poured out of them, showering down over the room and its occupants. 

Alcor shrieked, the sound piercing though all their ears and making a few faint as he tried to shield himself from the water, gold sparks flashing and sizzling with each drop that hit the demon.

The sprinklers shut off and the generator kicked to life, moves synchronized on lessor, easier to confine demons. Alcor screamed again as the posts sent electricity through the circle, hitting him with enough electricity to kill a human and driving the demon to his knees.

The electricity stopped, the room silent save for the occasional drip of the sprinklers and Alcor's harsh breathing. 

The chains were thrown, enchanted to seek out the demon, manacles closing on thin wrists and the collar round the demon's neck, the other ends snapped into the staples driven into the star's points to bind him.

Alcor raised his hands, staring at his chained wrists in shock as the agents relaxed, beginning to celebrate. He hissed softly but they ignored him, used by now to the demons they captured angrily ranting or screaming once they'd been captured. Between the holy water, electricity, binding circles, and engraved manacles, they could rave all they wanted, but they weren't getting free.

Alcor hissed again and the lights flickered in response. The agents stopped celebrating, running to check the binding circles for weakness, readying the sprinklers and generator for another hit.

The lights shorted out as one, going out in a dramatic flare of sparks that showered over the agents. In the darkness Alcor's eyes glowed in solid gold, gold lines of brickwork tracing over the void–dark form of his body, darker than the pitch black of the room, lit only by the gold of his eyes and lines and the faint lines of the binding circle.

“H̴̗̣͍̳͕̪̫̤̽̇̽̓̆͌̊̋̀͞ͅo̫̺͍̯ͧͮͩ͞w̨̳̟͈̗̮͂̾̐ͤ͛ͣ̿́ ̟̝̖ͨ̐̀d̳͓̯̪͈̮̤̋̐ͩ͂͐͒ͪͥͅȁ̧̳̝̗̳͉̙͋̃͊̇́́ͅr̟͓̅̾ͪ͌͒̾́ë͏̦̟̦̦͈ ̡̰͗ͪ̀͢y̢̡̜͖̺͚͊͂̂o͎͇͕̼̭͍̣̘͙̍̽͞u̢͖̹̼̬ͥ̓͛?̑̈̋͂̾ͪ҉̨͙̯͙̹̩̩ ” he demanded. “H̛̘̼̘̟̤̤͓ͮ͋̏ͯͧ̆͗͞͝O̬̜̬̙ͩ̾͗͊ͅͅW̗̜̲̬ͮ̑̈́ͨ͊ͮ͗̅͝ͅ ̴̢̼̙̪̟̋̈̃ͫ̆̔͟D̡̲͔̉̉͊ͫ̃̓͋A̷͖̗̩͙ͤṚ̨̧̳͚̥̹̦́̾̚Ȩ͔͕̜̤͑ͥͭ̔ͭ͋̚̚͡ ̷̶̥͇̘͉̒͋̔͑̂̑͒̎͘Y̴̻̙̙̪̮͔͎̓̎ͥ̈̈ͭͭOͨͨ̈́͏̼͔̝̲̳͇U̝͍͉̬ͮͥ̃̃ͭ͆̓ͮ͒?̧̬͎͆̄̾͋̓͂̈́̄͊͠ ”

 

Blue fire flared up against that void blackness around the manacles and collar, tracing their runes and edges, cracking in lines of blue fire before shattering with a sharp crack louder than a shotgun blast.

He hovered over the ruined remains of his former bonds, the circle trying futily to bind him before flickering, sparking, and finally dying.

The doors locked, blue fire sealing them closed, and Alcor snarled as he held up razor sharp claws. 

 

“Ỵ̷͔̫̘̟͓͈̬̎͂̒͟ǒ̦̩̺̬̦̂ͧu̶̸͖͍͕̯̗͈͎͈̓̒͐ͩ̓ͬ̉͐͝ ̼̱͈͓̣̪̥ͮa̡̖̩͖̗̭̝ͬ͂͊̅̓ͨ̃r̵̠̬͈̪̭̖͍̝̟ͭ̒e̫̩͓̪̽ ̼̮̮̟̞̱̹͉̿ͩ̀́p̴͔͔͎ͫ̉ͭ̎͋ͭͩl̎̓ͩͨ̔ͪͮ҉̧͚͖̭̗̰͔͓͞a̮̳͕̳ͤ̌̐̄ͦ͢͞y̹̥ͪ̀ͨ̈͟i̴̲̞̫̝̫̭ͤ̆̋n̫̫͖̄ͣ̀̿̆͐͌̑͞͝g̞̼͈͈̍̓͗̋̀͠ ͂͊̋͝͏̱̝͎w̩̻̰͖̦̄ͤ̓ͨ̇͘͢i̴̢̙͙̠̞̪̰̹̙ͬ͂͊ͯ̍ͥ̈ͥ̚ͅt̪͖͍͓̬̓̆ͬͣͨͥh̙̹̥̤̪̤͋ͦ͐ͤ̊̓ͥ͜ ̛̬̮̹̄́̄̈ͮ _F̜͔̟͇͍̄̃ͣͨ̕I̞̘̰̻̜̻̽͂́ͨ̍ͮͅR̭͙̤͉̠̗̣̅̈͑ͣͮ͢͞Ȅ͖͎̗̱̣ͬ̈̈ͦ͆͛͞._ ”

 

 

_Addendum note to file on Subject 24601, Alias Alcor_

_Do not again attempt summoning under any circumstances. May hold grudge._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize the zalgo's a little hard to read - for the curious who can't make it out, it says "How dare you," "HOW DARE YOU", and "You are playing with _fire_ ".
> 
> Requests are open at the moment on my tumblr, phenyxsnest.tumblr.com, though not guaranteed.


	2. In the Arms of the Demon King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Trashy Romance Novel excerpt I wrote and posted. 
> 
> Romance Novel Heroine X Alcor
> 
> Not to be taken seriously. At all.

_She knelt at the edge of the circle, begging for him to appear._

_The priests were wrong, she just knew it. He wasn’t evil, he could love, and he loved her. They didn’t know him the way she did._

_The circle sparked and flared, smoke boiling up from the center and obscuring it from view._

_When it cleared, he knelt there shakily, still weakened, and she threw herself into his arms, weeping._

_“They nearly had you!” she wept into his strong shoulder, strong arms tipped with sharp claws coming up to hold her closer._

_“No binding or exorcism could keep me from you,” he breathed into her hair. She looked up into gold on black eyes, her own overflowing with love._

_“Please, how do I make you well again?” she asked, eyes overflowing still with tears, glittering in the flames of the dying circle. “I’ll do anything.”_

_“Oh my love, you should know by now not to say such things to a demon,” Alcor said, tapping a clawed finger against her lips._

_Their lips met in a passionate kiss, and she moaned shamelessly as she clung to him, hands sliding down his back to his wings, stroking over where they joined his back, reveling in the power she held over this most powerful of demons when he moaned at the contact into her mouth…_

Mabel stopped reading, laughing too hard to keep going.

Dipper’s eye twitched, and he was visibly trying not to be ill. “I…wait…what…ow.”

He fled into the dreamscape as Mabel started reading again, ignoring her protesting, “Bro-Bro, get back here! I didn’t get to the good stuff yet!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are like writing candy for me. Things are really bad lately and these make me giggle, so I have no regrets.


	3. Doubly Forbidden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Trashy Romance Novel excerpt.
> 
> They basically dared me to write this by asking about novels detailing the illicit affair between Alcor and The Woodsman.
> 
> Alcor X Woodsman

_“Devil,” he growled, “Demon, beast…”_

_Beneath him Alcor grinned, the grin of sharklike teeth that both repelled The Woodsman and drew him in as a moth to the flame. “You knew from the start what I was,” he said tauntingly, drawing a claw down The Woodsman’s cheek._

_The Woodsman groaned, propping himself over Alcor, who lay spread below him, eyes glinting wickedly, tauntingly. Doubly forbidden, both demon and male, and doubly irresistible._

_Growling, he dug his fingers into Alcor’s brown locks, and their lips met in a bruising kiss. Claws dug into his back, and he retaliated with bites to Alcor’s neck, the pale, demonic skin bruising and bleeding under his teeth, Alcor hissing with pleasure at each bite. Determined to hear that dark, demonic voice crying out for him, The Woodsman ground down against the hips he pinned to the ground…_

Mabel paused, looking up at her husband and brother. Both wore nearly the same shell-shocked expression, though only one of them was flickering in and out of corporeality.

“I knew you two loved each other!” she chirped.

Dipper disappeared, and Henry held up a finger. “If he pukes, I’m not cleaning it up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a very slow writer. This was the fastest I ever wrote something. Don't care, still fun.


	4. Dominating the Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka y'all need to stop tempting me.
> 
> Trashy Romance Novel excerpt based on this ask: Okay so instead of all the Alcor x anyone fics having Alcor as a dominating weirdo what if there was a Alcor x Woodsman story where Alcor is a little uke and blushes a lot and Mabel never EVER lets that story go and always brings it up to Henry and Dipper 
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/103235303553/okay-so-instead-of-all-the-alcor-x-anyone-fics-having

_“Idiot,” Alcor growled as he turned away from The Woodsman, a blush painting over his cheeks. “It'd be too much trouble to make a new minion, that's the only reason I saved you.”_

_The Woodsman smiled, looming over the smaller demon. “Is that so?” He turned Alcor to face him, who refused to look up at him even as his blush deepened. A hand at the small of Alcor's back pulled him flush against The Woodsman's firm chest, and a finger slipped under his chin tilted his head up to meet The Woodsman's eyes. “Is that really the only reason?”_

_“W-Woodsman...” Alcor stammered, blush traveling up to the tips of his adorably pointed ears. His luminous, gold on black eyes slid closed as The Woodsman bent toward him, soft lips parted in anticipation..._

“Mabel, sweetie? I think you broke your brother,” Henry commented. “And I'm about ten seconds from joining him in sweater town. Please stop. Where do you even find this stuff?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I regret nothing._
> 
> Mabel traumatizing Dipper with these is too funny for me.


	5. Desperate Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by: One time Dipper gets summoned into what would be a really powerful binding circle - like he would have been enslaved to this guy properly if he wasn't part human. Instead he just waltzes across the lines and is ready to shred someone when the person in the cloak breaks down crying and it's this 15 year old kid that wanted to rescue her brother and/or herself from their abusers. Suddenly Dipper has a crying teenager on his hands.  
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/103286316133/one-time-dipper-gets-summoned-into-what-would-be-a
> 
> Warnings for mentions of child abuse and implied violence.

Dipper emerged from the center of the summoning circle, eyes ablaze, details registering at the back of his mind as he launched into the introduction he'd made standard for summonings.

Dark basement, cloaked figure – only one this time, strangely enough – but a well drawn circle, probably the most perfect one he'd seen in a long time.

“W̾̓͂̽H̯O̖̖̮̩ͅ ̚D̮̻̘͎͎͔͒̏ͪ̂Ȁ͉̰͈͔ͅR̫Ḛ̬̙͎̯̽̏ͧͣ̇S͇̰̠̰̬̥ͬ̒͋̓̈ͧ ̤̼͎̺̖̌́̌ͬ̈̂ͅS̯͇͕̝̲̠̯͌̾͑̎͑̂̃U͚̰̗̹M̹̰̹̬͍͗M̖̰̬̲͐ͯ̊-͂ͫ͆͐ͩ̒ ” 

His normal demand was cut short as he got a proper 'feel' of the circle he was trapped in. A binding circle. A circle of enslavement. A perfect circle of enslavement, capable of trapping and binding even a demon as powerful as he was.

Almost. If he hadn't been partially human, it would have worked. As it was...

 

“Yͩ̉̔̔̈ͯ̚͏̩̮̹ͅÔ̼͖͍ͦ̊́U̶̝͚̤̜̙͔̓̈́͛̉̎̚ ̳̜͈̺ͫ̿W̃́͛͋̃ͭ͏̺̯̫̲̯̠͙̫̕ͅŎ̖̺̜̻̂͊̓ͩͩ͞U̶͍͉̲͎̠̱͕̼ͣ̅͋͐ͥ̍̀L̖̝̮̼̯͕͕̒̊̎͘D̛̗̙͈̯̭̤ͨ̄ͮͤ͘ ͒̂ͩ͏̭̮̞̩̤̤T̷̰̗̳̉ͧͧͣR̻͎͔̞̈ͥͥ͡ͅͅY̵̸͎̻̺̭̞̍̈́̓ͦ̌̍̃ ̘̞͇̿̍̎ͯ͂ͫͫ͢T͆̍̍̽͑̚͟͏̸̝̝̩̲̩̤O̴̡̡̳͇̩̪̭̺̱̯̳ͧ̋ͭ̎ ̸̜̤̜̠̝͎͙͊ͥͅE̢̎͛ͦ͝͏̰̱͓̣͍ͅŅ̺̮̹̼̣̻͙͇̋̌̽́S̟̭ͦ̔͌ͣͨ͡L̛̰͓͍̼̈͌A̪̪͒͐̑ͭ͌͡V̨̛͙͉͇̮͛̂̽ͣͥ͌E̷ͤ̉̎͒҉͎ ̶̝͖̲̺̺̘̥̎̔ͯͫ̋̈ͣ́͜A̡̞̜̮̫͉͉̲͌͐̆̃͆̂̋̕L̷̼̻͓͇͚̤͚̼ͦ̔͐ͤ̌̄C̼͎͖̯̏̓͋ͩ̔̏Ơ̝͙͑ͮͪ͌͗͘R͚̥̼͍̹̭̀́ ̹͎̞̳̟ͬ̃ͤͨ͒̚ͅT̛ͭ̒̈́̀͏̩̗̞̖H̳̘͙̦̹̖̘̑E̶ͦ͗̿ͣ҉̟̠̦̩̳͟ ̶͙̘̙͔̗̩̉̾͂͋́ͤ͡͞ͅD̢͎̬̲̣̋ͩ̃͜Rͨ̒̌ͭ̉̿ͣ̐̄͜͏̫̞E̲̫̝͍̱̻͕̟͊̉͆͞A̶͇̺̩̞͚̻̓ͣ̎̌̅ͣ̚ͅM̥̦͔͈̦̏̓̉͋͝ ̷̸̞ͪͮͤͭ̄B̓͂̚҉ͅE̴͙̹̤̣ͤ͆ͥ͊̈́ͤN̦̗̞̥̪̭͇̥̆ͩͮͮͧ̇́̒͒̀̀D͖̆͆͑͛̍ͩͮͤ̀͜E͔̹̩̲̝̜̿ͧ̇ͨ͟R̴̴̮̟̠͖̟̺̠̹̀̑̉ͤͬͫ̋ͬ̕?̡̳͍̺͎̮͇̦̗̑ͩ͂͗̂͆̄ ” he roared, eyes blazing in fury more human form partially dissolving to the black of the void lit by hands bursting into blue flame. He landed, deliberately stepping over the circle's bounds, watching the cloaked figure stumbling away. The fear seeping from them was sweet, so, so sweet, and the demon part of Dipper reveled in it. They should fear, for trying to trap him, he would rip them apart and...

The summoner gave a little sob and Dipper paused, the sound barely registering over his fury. It sounded like Willow, or Acacia or even Mabel years ago...

Scrambling away a little more from the frozen demon, the cloak fell away from the summoner's face, revealing a teenager, a young one, one too thin to be healthy, with heavy bags under their eyes and lank hair falling around their face, a bruised and hopeless face, almost silently crying with fear, too afraid to make noise.

“Great job, Dipper, scare the crap out of a kid,” Dipper muttered to himself, flames going out in an instant, resuming his usual mostly-human form. He glanced back at the almost professional – level summoning circle behind him and felt a little less guilty over it. “The kid with the perfect binding circle. Right.”

“Okay, kid, spill,” he said louder, gloved hand pinching the bridge of his nose. It was physically impossible for him to get headaches from things like this, but sometimes he could feel the phantom sensation of one. “Stop crying, I'm not going to eat you. Why the hell did you summon me?”

He floated back into the air, crossing his ankles and getting ready to wait it out, projecting a calm he didn't feel. He didn't go near the circle again, though. It was too powerful for his comfort.

“I – I'm sorry,” they sobbed, and Dipper felt just a bit more guilty. “I – It's just...they were gonna...so I thought...” 

Crying kid that wasn't a niblet, what do?

“Calm down, Mary Ellen,” he said, and she cringed, pressing harder against the wall and staring up at him in silent horror. Great, that worked just perfect. Omniscience – good when you wanted to scare humans by knowing about them, bad when you forgot it scared them.

He signed again and floated down to be closer to her level, bending over and looking at her earnestly. “C'mon, please stop crying. Look, if you summoned me, you must've heard I go easy on kids. Just tell me what you want and why you thought it was a good idea to try enslaving me.” Ugh, he was going to lose every bit of demon cred he'd built up if word of this ever got out, but she reminded him of the niblets, all hair and big eyes and looking up at him with a little bit of hope starting to dawn in those eyes and he was so doomed.

“I...didn't, actually,” she said, still terrified but sitting up a little straighter, shoving hair and hood out of her face. “Hear that. Or mean to enslave you, honest. It's just...” she took a deep breath and said the rest in a rush, as if afraid to admit to it all. “They've been beating us, and we never get enough to eat, and I heard them talking and they said they were gonna summon you tomorrow and sacrifice us to bind you to them so I thought I'd do it first so I stole the diagrams they were gonna use and I thought and maybe you could stop them or at least save my little brother?”

And again with the crying. Craaaaap. What do now?

Okay, think. No, no, bad idea, bad idea. This wasn't one of his kids, a hug wasn't going to help. Why did human-ing have to be so hard? 

Wait...this was someone else, the adult's, summoning circle? They were the ones who wanted him bound, and they were torturing kids to make it happen? They were going to pay...

“Um...are you okay?” she asked in a tiny voice. “Only your eyes went all gold and you kinda started turning black and...”

“Who's them? And what were you willing to offer me?” he interrupted her to ask, looking into eyes that were brightening with hope. “No enslavement, just a deal.”

“You mean it? I...I don't...have anything to trade...and it's...they're our uncle and aunt...they took us in after our parents died but...”

“Y̫̯̱̝̎̄̈́͋o̯̟͂͑ͪ̓̑ͨ̐̎̃u͈̯̗̹̭̩ͭ̏ͯ̓ͧr̶̲̪͔̅̍̆̉͆ͤͬͬ̀͟ ̰̲̘̙ͬ̍̏ͬ̓̐̉̚͟f̄̌̍ͬ͊ͨͦ̾̄҉͔̳͕͓͚̭̼ḁ̵͕̯̬͚ͦ̎̾m̸̹̳̳̅̈́̓̏̔ͥi̇҉̵͍͓̺l̘ͩ̑̄y͌̇̆̿̾͏̝͖͈͖̜͙̦͡ ̡̞̺̜̰̲͎̽ͨ̐͂̇ͅd̏̑̈́̍͆̀͏͈̠͉͘ị̊̅̾ͬ̀̄̚͝d̶̴̙̃̈̉ͯͪͬ̏̍͟ ̡̬̫̹̮͎̤̒͢t͓̙̺̬͕̍ͯ͂͊̓́̈́͗͝ͅͅh̯͔̼͊̐̌͌̈́͗ͭ̕͜͝įͪͯ̈ͥ͏͇͕͔̩͈s̷̵̹̺̤̜̭͙̳̈́̉?̶̨̜͉ͪ̂͌ ”he started to roar, settling back on the ground when she frantically gestured, pleadingly, for him to quiet down, looking to the basement ceiling frantically.

Breathing heavily, Dipper sank back to his mid air float, willing himself to a state where he could think clearly.

“Look, the price is going to depend on what you ask of me,” Dipper said finally, examining his claws as if bored with the whole thing while he seethed inwardly, actually checking their sharpness. “So what'd you want?

“Well...I don't want to be sacrificed...” Mary Ellen offered. “Or my little brother, either. Or to...to be beaten or starved anymore. We want out.”

“It's a start,” Dipper said, grin baring rows of sharklike teeth. He opened his mouth to make an offer when footsteps thundered overhead.

Mary Ellen shrank back against the wall again, fear saturating the air worse than before when a male voice from upstairs roared her name, calling her a variety of foul names before demanding she show herself, fear of the known more powerful than even the demon in front of her.

Dipper's eyes narrowed, gold bleeding over the black until none remained. 

“You want freedom, right, Butterfly?” he asked, turning to look at her again, hands already tingling with the eagerness to seal a deal. 

The basement door opened, heavy feet storming down the stairs. “I know you're down here, brat!”

“Anything!” she sobbed, grabbing Dipper's hand and sealing the deal early in her panic. “I'll promise anything! Just save us!”

“Oh, you should never promise a demon that,” Dipper purred, black overtaking his body, sliding in front of Mary Ellen and shielding her from sight with his wings. “You got lucky you called on me, Butterfly.”

 

“There you are,” her tormenter snapped moments later, reaching out for the shrinking little girl. His hand wrapped around her arm with room to spare as he roughly dragged her out of the corner and towards the stairs. 

“By the time I'm done with you you'll be thankful we're gonna give you to a demon,” he snarled, hauling her towards the stairs.

 

Still in the corner, Mary Ellen watched as the demon wearing her form and face turned back to look at her, eyes flashing to gold and Cheshire grin splitting her face farther than a human mouth could to bear sudden fangs as the basement door swung closed behind him.

Her brother stumbled downstairs minutes later, seeking refuge and hiding the way he did every time their caretakers decided one of them needed punishment, and she held him tight as the screaming began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zalgo translations: "Who dares summ-"  
> "You would try to enslave Alcor the Dreambender?"  
> "Your family did this?"


	6. Leave a Message After the Scream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally got to listen to this playlist: http://8tracks.com/ghostfiish/alcor-s-answering-machine (Go listen if you can get 8tracks to work, I was so glad it finally did) and it made me wonder – what happened the first time a cult got the answering machine instead of Alcor?

The invocation chant finished, the cultists lowered their arms, staring at the circle eagerly as the candles flared, smoke boiling around the edges and rising into a pillar.

Finally, the summoning had worked, after all the research and false starts. They were going finally to summon Alcor, the Dream Bender, the Reality Warper, and soon, with his power at their command, all their dreams of power and glory were going to come true!

A spark of blue fire shot up from the center of the circle and their leader stepped forward, readying his speech for when Alcor appeared.

He stopped short as, instead of the human-esqe figure they expected, the blue flame hovered at chest height before spinning itself into a star, which pirouetted slowly within the dissipating smoke.

“Is that supposed to happen?” someone near the back whispered, only to be shushed by their frightened neighbors.

The words “Please Wait, Alcor Shall Be With You Soon,” appeared on both sides of the star, looking suspiciously like they'd been written in purple glitter glue. A second later, a woman's voice began singing “Disco Queen”, enthusiastically if a bit off key.

In silent shock, they cultists stood and watched the star spin and listened to the cover of “Disco Queen” and through “Taking Over Midnight”, shifting uncomfortably and unsure of just what to do. None of the guides said anything about this!

As “Taking Over Midnight” ended and “Don't Start Un-Believing” began, the message on the star changed, exploding in a burst of glitter to be replaced by “Please Leave A Message At The Sound Of The Scream.”

“Don't Start Un-Believing” came to an end, and sure enough, there was a bloodcurdling scream from inside the circle, making nearly all the cultists jump and giggle nervously and guiltily.

The star pulsed like a heartbeat for roughly a minute before going up in a ball of blue flame, dissipating into thin air.

“...did we just get a demonic answering machine?” a cultist asked in disbelief. “And we didn't even leave a message on it?”

“What kind of message do you leave on a demonic answering machine?” another snapped.

“Can they even do that?”

“...apparently Alcor can.”

“At least we know we got through,” yet another said. “Let's try again, I liked that cover of “Don't Start Un-Believing.”

Meanwhile, the leader's eye started to twitch. This was so not what he'd signed up for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song titles taken from the show, episodes Double Dipper and Scary-Oke. They also used “We Built This Township on Rock and Roll” and “Danger Lane to Highway Town”.


	7. A Love For All Eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was done with the romance novels. I was wrong.
> 
> Alcor/Mizar/The Woodsman
> 
> ...sorry Dipper.
> 
> The second half (after the line) is an AO3 exclusive, NSFW for fairly tame sexy times.

 

Mabel nearly skipped over to the 'new releases' corner of the Demonic Romances section.

 

Teasing Dipper with these was never going to get old.

 

She picked through them in a rush, grin growing as she found a new trend in them. Picking up the most promising, she cracked it open for a taste test.

  

 

_The Woodsman backed away until his back hit a tree, antlers tangling in the lowest branches._

 

_Alcor advanced on him like a hunting cat stalking prey, floating until he was eye to eye with the one his powers had created._

 

_He licked his lips, then again, slower, when The Woodsman's eyes followed that wicked, sinful tongue over perfect lips._

 

“ _So” Alcor breathed, his voice dark and low black velvet, stroking almost physically over The Woodsman's skin,“you want me.”_

 

_The Woodsman refused to meet his eyes. “I don't...”_

 

“ _You **w͓̳̜ͨ̿ͦ͠àn͌́ṱ̶̙͈̰͗́** me,” the demon repeated, pressing closer. “And Mizar, too.”_

 

“ _I...”_

 

“ _Come and **t͖͋ͥ̐ͩa͓͕̺̅̄ḱ̹́ͯͥ͆̿e͎̙͛̈ͭ̀̂͐ ̯͙͕̯͍̣͑̋m͉̞͍̥̈ͬ̾̆e̯͈̲͒** then,” he taunted, bare inches from The Woodsman's face. Oh, but he'd never imagined this when he'd created The Woodsman to protect his family, but he wasn't going to complain when the outcome was so delicious._

 

_With a snarl to match the demon king's, The Woodsman tore free of the branches, slamming the smaller, more powerful demon against the tree that had so recently trapped him._

 

“ _You shameless...” he snarled, to the demon's pointed, cheshire grin. “And what about Mizar? You'd betray her that easily?”_

 

“ _She knows. Mizar always knows everything,” Alcor purred, seemingly unconcerned with the hands pinning his wrists to rough bark, almost arching into the punishing grip. “Did you really think she wouldn't know you want us both?” he asked tauntingly, arching into the body covering his. “Do you think about it at night? Which one do you imagine you're pinning down when you touch yourself?”_

 

_Growling, The Woodsman smashed his mouth against Alcor's, teeth clicking against fangs as he forcefully shut the other up._

 

_Hands pulling on his antlers drew him back, Mizar's voice in his ear shocking him into stillness and obedience. “Now like **that** ,” she giggled. “He likes it rough, but if you wanna drive him mad, you gotta be **gentle** .” _

 

_Blinking rapidly, looking down at the smirking demon, challenging him, The Woodsman gave a smirk of his own before leaning down and pressing his mouth against Alcor's a second time, hands tangling in soft brown hair._

 

_Slow, gentle, he took his time exploring the moist cavern, his tongue twisting and dancing with Alcor's, feeling victory sing through his veins when arms wound around his neck and the demon king went limp against him, a moan singing through their connected mouths._

 

_His hands shot down to grasp at that tight, pert ass, gripping it hard and hauling Alcor off his feet and up against him, those long, long legs wrapping around his waist just as he'd dreamed time and time again, Mizar pressing against his back and giggling._

 

“ _Let's take it back to the bedroom, boys,” she whispered._

 

“Mabel? We're ready, hon. Find something you want?” Henry paused, looking at his cackling wife, who at that moment looked more evil than her brother, the literal demon. “I don't want to know.”

 

_\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

_Alcor's body covered Mizar's, her voice rising over all other noises as she encouraged her lovers to new heights._

 

“ _Harder!” Alcor demanded, claws ripping into the sheets by Mizar's hips, one set beginning to draw blood at her hip even as she bucked into his hold for more. “Dammit, you fucking tease!”_

 

_The Woodsman drew his tongue up the length of Alcor's spine, free hand teasing the base of one outspread and twitching wing, reveling in the cry such a simple touch to such an inhuman spot could pull from the all powerful demon willingly trapped between them. “You should know,” he hissed, pulling at the wing, never speeding up or changing the force behind his slow, lazy, gentle thrusts. “ **Tease** .” _

 

“ _ **Hͩ̃̄̊̚å̪̯̗̩̱̯̹̬͌r̈́͏͈̕͝ḑ̟̥̫̆͌̋̋̉͛͘ę̫͖̺͕̻͇̤̫̽̌ͩͫ̀ͣͅr̵̳̰̲̙̼̉̑̑͋͑ͩ̄͜ͅ!̶ͬ̏̕҉͙͚̗͈̺̙͉̪͇ , damn you!** ” Alcor growled, and Mizar laughed. _

 

“ _Don't you **dare** ,” she laughed, arching up against Alcor. “Slow down, I want this to last.”_

 

“ _ **Mizar**...” Alcor growled warningly, cut off with a gasp as The Woodsman gave another lazy thrust, Mizar arching again to meet them._

 

_Mizar's hands traveled to Alcor's wings, pulling on them, teasing and massaging, knowing his every weak point, The Woodsman leaning forward to draw the tip of a pointed ear into his mouth, as slow and lazy as Mizar to drive Alcor mad._

 

“ _Our demon,” she purred, The Woodsman echoing it around the ear in his mouth, and both bared fanged grins as he surrendered to them, the most powerful demon in the world utterly under their spell._

 

“Mabel, honey? I don't know what you're reading, and I don't think I want to know, but your cackling is starting to scare the kids. And me.”

 

Mabel passed over the book she'd been reading, and Henry scanned it.

 

“Okay. Next time he breaks out the Smile Dip...”

 

The only thing in the room brighter than Mabel's sweater was the evil smile she shared with her husband.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said it before, but...when things get depressing around here, I find myself writing things that make me laugh. And these snippets make me giggle like a loon.


	8. Demon Buddies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Opened my inbox for fic open season prompts and received: Alcor and Soos being buddies and hanging out.
> 
> For some reason bro-time was being difficult. I tried. Have the first time Soos summoned Dipper for bro-time.

Soos stared at the scrap of paper Mabel had given him.

On the one hand – summoning a demon. On the other – it was Dipper. And he missed the kid. Dipper was one of his closest friends, like a little bro, and he missed him. Things were way too quiet now that he had to get Mabel to be go-between and tell him what Dipper was saying.

So…if he had to summon him, demon-like, to hang out…Soos shrugged and put the paper on the ground. Glancing around to make sure no one could see him – he didn’t really care if anyone saw him hanging with Dipper, he just didn’t want anyone to see him if he screwed this up – he pricked his finger and smeared the blood on the paper the way Mabel and told him to.

“Uh…Dipper? You there dude?”

There was a puff of smoke and Dipper appeared, floating over the summoning circle. “…um…hey Soos,” he said, scratching at the back of his head and looking anywhere but at Soos.

Soos laughed. “Dude, you gotta work on that entrance. Not scary at all.”

“Well, I…didn’t want to scare you…” Dipper said, still shifting uncomfortably.

“You should still work on that, dude, you could have some fun with it,” Soos commented.

There was an awkward silence, then, neither quite sure what to say. ‘Hey dude, sorry you’re a demon now?’ ‘So, yeah, if you need proof I’m a demon now, there you go, just waiting for you to run screaming from the room now, no big deal.’

“…so…you wanna go put hot dogs in the microwave and watch ‘em blow up one by one?” Soos offered.

“…are you sure? I mean…”

“Yeah, dude. I miss my Dipper time.” Soos smiled, holding up a fist. “We still cool, bro?”

Dipper lit up, tapping his fist against Soos’. “Yeah. We cool, Soos.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soos and twins friendship forever.


	9. Makeover Time!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic Open Season Prompt: Candy and Grenda doing the makeup thing on Dipper when he's on the phyical plane, who cares if he's a big scary demon.

Mabel and Dipper had been officially moved back to Gravity Falls permanently for two weeks before Candy and Grenda invited themselves over for a ‘welcome back’ slumber party.

Mostly because Mabel was still hurting over having to leave their parents house and learning that sometimes, being loved wasn’t enough, but also just to welcome back their friend.

Dipper fled as the girls descended upon the attic room he and Mabel still, technically, shared despite his no longer really needing a room, though Mabel had seen the grateful look he shot her friends before he left.

It was good to have friends that wouldn’t desert you just because your dorky twin brother now happened to be your dorky twin demon brother.

They’d dragged out the old board games, talked about all the gossip of Gravity Falls, and ‘watched’ rom coms until the early morning, eating popcorn and giggling.

Mabel laughed and flopped back into the pile of cushions on the floor. “Tonight’s been great, girls. Thanks. I needed this.”

Grenda and Candy nodded understandingly. They’d been there when everything had gone down, and they’d seen Mabel when she’d thought Dipper was dead. Demon was better than dead, in their opinion, if only because he was still there for their friend. For the most part. Good enough.

“The night’s not over yet!” Grenda cheered. She held up a bag full of makeup and declared, “It’s makeover time!”

“But you’re both already beautiful!” Mabel protested, rolling over onto her stomach.

“But your brother is a demon now,” Candy said in a matter of fact tone.

Mabel’s eyes narrowed, automatically on the defensive. “Yeah. And?”

“And a demon cannot go around and be taken seriously in shorts and t-shirt!” Candy said, nodding sagely. “So he needs a makeover.”

“We don’t have clothes, so we can do his makeup first!” Grenda declared, shaking the bag meaningfully.

“…if he can be physical for us,” Candy added, the two girls suddenly remembering how none of them had seen or heard Dipper since the twins had returned, worried they may have hit a sore spot.

Mabel, on the other hand, was grinning. “Not a problem, girls. We figured out a summoning circle!” she dug in a bag and produced a pad of paper covered in a sketchy circle. “We’re still ironing out the details, though Dipper’s sure about the symbols. Apparently, he needs a demon name for a proper invocation,” she said, rolling her eyes and laughing. “This one’s for friends and family. We give a sacrifice, like some candy, so he can stay on this plane, and a drop of blood to call him up, and he’s physical for awhile. We’re still figuring out how much candy he needs to stay physical, it’s a work in progress.”

The girls cheered as Mabel set the paper down on the ground and offered up their fingers when Mabel pulled out a needle, pricking their fingers and letting the blood fall on the circle.

They half expected some kind of incantation, but somehow it was more right when Mabel just called, “Hey Dippingsauce, get down here,” instead.

There was a little poof of black smoke and Dipper was there, hovering a foot off the floor uncomfortably.

“Um…hi?” he said, refusing to look straight at either of Mabel’s friends.

Mabel tossed him a bag of candy they hadn’t opened yet. “You’re joining us, Dipdot!” she declared. “Think that’ll buy us some time?”

Dipper looked at the candy in his hands and back at Mabel, confusion written plainly on his face as he tried to understand why they wanted him there. “Uh…yeah, about an hour I think…”

For their part, Grenda and Candy were looking Dipper over. He really didn’t look that different from before, if you discounted the claws, ears, and teeth…oh, and the creepy eyes. But he still had the same outfit from that summer that everything had changed, all the way down to the ratty sneakers.

They looked at each other and began to grin. “Makeover!” they chorused, holding up the makeup bag.

Dipper went pale. “Oh crap…no way, I’m out of here!”

“Tackle him, girls!” Mabel cheered.

The Shack rang with their cheerful shrieks and Stan’s banging on the wall, yelling for them to keep it down up there.

(Dipper didn’t keep the makeover.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendships are so important in this AU.


	10. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic Open Season Prompt: Dipper and the extended family on Henry's side.
> 
> Skewed a little into Henry's reactions to his parent's reactions to Dipper.

Henry was doing his best to shield Dipper and Mabel from his extended family, save for the branch in Gravity Falls.

Then again, Manly Dan and his clan were already considered just as much black sheep as Henry was. Little wonder they accepted Henry, Mabel, and Dipper as well as they did. Living in Gravity Falls was enough for the rest of the family to be estranged from them, despite them being ‘proper’ Corduroy Lumberjacks, even before they put Uncle Tyler into the mix.

And really, Henry preferred it that way. And if he were being honest, it was for Mabel and Dipper’s sake, not his family’s, that he’d kept them separate and begun cutting ties with most of the people he was (unfortunately) related to.

It wasn’t until they started to talk about the wedding that Henry’s parents came up in unavoidable conversation.

“So I know my parents want to come up for the wedding, even though Dipper still creeps them out. We’re still summoning him for it, I don’t care. He’s my bro-bro, yanno? He’s been there for me more than them.” Mabel paused in her rambling to glance over at Henry. “You did know we need to have him there, right?”

“Can he be in the church, or should we have it outside?” was Henry’s practical concern. “Uncle Dan can set us up with a pavilion outside so we can be sure he’ll be there. I was going to ask him to be my best man, so it’s kind of important he can attend.”

Mabel grinned, grateful, at the easy acceptance of Dipper being part of the wedding. “…I never heard you mention if your parents were coming. Are they?” she asked, glittering another invite.

Henry winced. “Yeah, but…fair warning. They’re not happy.”

“Let Mabel work her magic!” his fiancee chirped. Henry winced again.

“They…aren’t nice people anymore, honey,” he said. “They weren’t the nicest before, and they just got worse after the Transcendence and I made it clear I wasn’t going to take a stand against the supernatural and come home to be a ‘proper’ Corduroy.”

Mabel grimaced, and he kept talking. “I…think I need to talk to them before the wedding, to make sure everything goes smoothly. I…guess if you want to come along…”

 

…this was a mistake, Henry thought as he watched his father continue his monologue, one that would sound fine to an outsider but was actually a vicious barrage of abuse directed mostly at Mabel and Dipper. Between it and his mother’s constant fondling of her crosses, her quiet, fervent, hissed in a barely audible (but quite nasty, Henry was sure) prayers, and her offers of holy water laced beverages, they’d already driven Dipper from the room (Henry wasn’t sure, but he thought there had been a faint glimmer of gold demon tears threatening to spill from Dipper’s eyes, despite how hard he’d been trying to look human) and were close to driving Mabel to do the same, and he had to do something.

No one hurt his brother or his fiancee. Not even his parents.

Especially not his parents, or his brother’s parents. No one.

“That’s enough,” he said, quiet and calm, cutting though his father’s verbal assault. “It doesn’t matter what you think of this. Mabel and Dipper are my family now, and we’re formalizing it a month from now. Come or not, it doesn’t really matter. If you do, though, then I want you to know that Uncle Dan will be there, and he’ll remove you if you so much as breathe wrong towards my family. He’ll probably enjoy it. I’ll be too busy sharing the day with the people who actually matter to deal with you. Then, or now.”

He shoved back his chair and stood up, taking Mabel’s hand. “Now I’m going home with my family. C’mon, Mabel, let’s go find your brother.”

They left, Rita’s faint “I’ll pray for you,” drifting after them.

 

Outside, Henry leaned against the wall, Mabel clinging to him tightly.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said, muffled against his shirt.

“Sorry,” he said, squeezing her close. “I meant all of it, though. C’mon, let’s go find your brother. I think he needs us right now.”

 

Dipper had retreated to the Mindscape, despite their earlier deal having granted him more time on the physical plane then he’d used, and Henry couldn’t blame him. He father was vicious when he got going, and there were some things no one should be asked to endure.

Mabel coaxed Dipper back onto their plane with soup and promises of hugs, and now, bracketed between twins, with a head on his chest and another on his shoulder, an arm around each, watching one of Stan’s old movies for comfort, Henry resolved – he might not be able to protect them from physical threat the way they could him or each other, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t be there for them no matter what.

He squeezed them a little closer, Mabel squeezing back and Dipper nuzzling closer, at the very edge of sleep.

Yeah. His family. A lot smaller than the old one, and a bit broken, but the one he chose.

And to hell with anyone who tried to take it from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Henry does not stand by while people hurt his family. Not ever.


	11. You Stole Something From Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prompt Jar gave me "You Stole Something From Me". This is what happened.

The demon huntress stared deep into the eyes of her prey, waiting for the right instant to strike.

She raised her knife, thrice blessed and doused with holy water, and hesitated. Inside the circle, bound there by only his own wish – and they both knew it – the demon Alcor hissed up at her from where he knelt, hands braced on the ground within the circle.

“Why ͟are y̶o̸ư ͝h̶e̸sit̕ati͡n̴g̨?” he hissed. “D͝o ͟it̸,͜ f̢i̢nis̀h̸ t̢hi͘s̡ ͘now!”

She raised the knife again, aiming a strike at him that was halfhearted at best before lowering it again. “No!” she declared, pointing the knife at him with blazing eyes. “I want to know why Mizar locked us in here, and why you’ve been following me! Talk, Alcor! What’s going on?”

He rose, slowly, floating above the circle, drifting closer until he was face to face with the famous demon hunter, her knife denting the front of his waistcoat as she held it between them. “Y͢o̷u wa̛nt t͝o̕ ̕k̸n̵ow̸ ́why̶,̷ ͠W̷en̵dy?̨ ̶W̴h͜y I’v̸e b̧e̵e͠n watch͜iǹg̛ y͡o̸u? ͘Why I͟’v̡e f̶ol̕low͘e͢d ̶you͘?̷ ͜W͞h̨y ͏my ̡i̡n͘te͡r͏f͜e̛r̨i͟ng̷ s̷i͟s͠͝t̨e̷r̛͠ ͜l̸ock̷ed̡ ͜us ̕in̛ he͝r͞e?̛” he demanded.

Eyes glowing with gold flame, he leaned forward closer, staring deep into her eyes. “Be̸cau̡s̕e ̴y͘o͜u̴ ̧st͠ole ͞sơm͘et͢h̷i͞ng ͏f̡r͢om̴ ͢m̡e,̕ ̛an͜d́ I w̢̒ͤ͐ͣ̓ă̓ͩ̑͌̾͋n͋̓́̎t̍ͧͧ i̫͖̱ͨͦͩ̂̊̓t͉ͣ̈́ b̶̫̝̱͎̼̓ͩ̎ͯa̒̅͊̋҉͓̘̯̤͕̖̞͘ͅc̴̼̖̋̾̏k̓̒ͥͨ̏͏̬̬͙̖͟ ”

“What are you talking about?” Wendy demanded, not backing down from the demon in front of her. “I haven’t stolen anything of yours!”

“Y̳̭͋̓͑͋̃̚o̴͇͖͂ͅu̻̻̺̹͌͋̂ͧ͊͡ ͖͚̾̐̀ͣͤd̡̘͖ͪo̡̔̋̑ͭ͊ṋͣ̊ͪ̂’͉̣̼͕͈͚̹̿̊ẗ̵̟͖̤̱̜́͋ͬ̆̑͗ ̌ͦ͊̽͊k̻̑ͪͤͤ͑̅ͪ̕n̷̥͚̼͎̲̏ͪ̿̓̊ͫo̴͇̥̹̬̭̜̫̐w͍̫̕?̠̗͇̦̯̐ͮͩ ” he said, quieter now, gazing deeply into her eyes, taking her free hand in both of his. “Ÿ̹̖̙̦̥͛o̅̓͛̌͋ͯ҉͖̤̞̖u̻͇̙̓̆̾͗ͧ̽ ̘̞̪̰̘͕̿̄́̓͜s͓̺̖̏̊ͧͮ͂͝ͅt̫̙̠̣̪͉ͩ̽̌̔o͍̠̗͌̓ͤ̈́̒͂͜l̞̣̱̞̍ͬ̿ê̝̱͚̠̱͔̑̕…”

“My HEART!” everyone chorused, breaking down laughing.

Wendy cackled, and Dipper was laughing so hard he fell off the couch, hovering a few inches over the floor.

“Man, and I thought the Twin Souls movies were cheesy,” Wendy laughed.

“Aw, you two are perfect for each other and you know it,” Mabel teased from the other half of the couch, where she was sprawled across her husband, who was blushing and laughing too hard to join in the teasing. “Just look at what you missed out on, Wendy!”

Dipper shook his cane at Wendy, suddenly aging himself to match his Grunkle. “Am I too young for you now, whippersnapper?” he croaked, and she smacked him, Dipper changing back to his normal form as he tumbled in midair and cackled.

Movie forgotten (though Candy managed to pause it, she wasn’t going to miss any of this), Grenda started chanting “Go, go, go, go!” and egging Wendy and Dipper on.

Wendy clasped her hands and fluttered her lashes at Dipper in her most outrageously flirtatious fashion.

“Oh, Alcor,” she said, trying to suppress her laughter, “how could I never have realized?” She reached for his hands and clasped them to her chest as Mabel howled and Dipper fought to keep a straight face. “But oh, I am a demon hunter!”

“And I a demon!” Dipper continued, dramatically laying the back of his hand to his forehead. (Mabel, in the background, yelled “Oh god I’m gonna pee!”)“Our forbidden love cannot be!”

They caught each others eyes and tried to keep it in, snickering and opening and closing their mouths, trying to speak, before giving in and collapsing on each other, laughing too hard to talk.

“I can’t…I can’t…” she gasped, and he waved a weak hand, panting “Don’t even look at me, I can’t even..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And thus starts the Wendy/Dipper tradition of acting out scenes from movies starring them. I kinda want to write more of the Wendy/Alcor movie/novels, it’s as much fun as Twin Souls.


	12. Mystery Twin Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic Open Season Prompt - Mystery Twin Post-Transcendence Shenanigans

It had taken an amazing amount of work, but Mabel had earned herself the funds for a car. It was used, and sometimes only Dipper’s willpower kept it going, but it was their car.

Mabel painted it, of course. It glowed in a rainbow of colors, with unicorns and kittens and the words “Mystery Twins” emblazoned on the sides.

Dipper wasn’t sure he was totally sold on the whole “Mystery Twins” thing, but if it made Mabel feel better…

Now if only she would stop volunteering them for random adventures.

Piedmont had been low on opportunities for The Mystery Twins, even if Dipper hadn’t been, as Mabel put it, “a pug faced sad sack” most of the time…and hadn’t wanted to creep out their parents any more than he had to.

But now – now they were back in Gravity Falls, and they were mobile. It was a mixed blessing, really.

Because on the one hand – Dipper wasn’t very good at tessering, as he called it, or blipping, as Mabel called it, yet. Especially not with Mabel along for the ride.

On the other – they could cover still cover a lot of ground this way. Far more than they could at twelve. Which meant Mabel volunteering them/seeking out mysteries ‘to make Dipper feel better’ all over the area.

Mabel was getting better at most of it, but for sheer clout, Dipper still had to do most of the work, magic-wise.

And this latest adventure Mabel had signed them up for…well…

Sneaking in had been the easy part. Releasing the people the flock of vampires had collected to feast on that night, as some sort of celebration, less so.

Negotiating to win the freedom of both the people and themselves in – poker of all things – had been…something.

(Mabel tilted back the top hat she’d won off Dipper, flashing a million watt grin as she spread out her cards. “Read ‘em and weep, boys,” she said triumphantly.

The vampires groaned as Dipper flashed his hand, a full house to Mabel’s straight flush, grinning a mouthful of sharklike teeth. “Looks like that’s another human for us, then,” he said.

Bless Grunkle Stan for teaching them how to play poker. Doubly so for teaching them how to cheat at poker.

Served the vampires right for thinking they could cheat their way though poker and get not only another human for their little festival, but a taste of demon blood to top off the festivities.

He wasn’t sure if Mabel was more insulted that they thought they could have a taste of her brother, or if he was that they thought he’d just sit back and let them eat his sister.

…probably Mabel, if the look she was giving them as she kicked their asses at poker was anything to go by. Though it was a close call.)

Getting away from said flock of vampires, who now knew there was a demon and a human working together and were convinced they’d been cheated out of a taste of demon blood along with a human appetizer and had decided they were getting something out of tonight even if the humans they’d collected had all gotten away?

“Step on it, they’re gaining!” Dipper cried. Mabel gunned the engine, the whole car shaking with the effort.

“I am! Dipper, you’re the demon, do something magic!” Mabel yelled back, swerving to avoid a vampire that flung itself from above at the car’s windshield. “Suck on this,” she added, shoving a bulb of garlic into the mouth of a vampire that tried to get at them through the window.

“I’m trying,” he grunted, “but it’s that or keep the car in one piece, since they’re trying to take it apart! And I can’t touch anything but the garlic or the stakes!”

“So throw a fireball or something!”

“…oh. Right.” Mabel rolled her eyes and swerved again as Dipper clung to the back of his seat, twisting to kneel on it (approximately, he was losing corporeality fast, between getting ready to pitch a fireball and holding the car together – which was probably unnecessary but still) and pitched blue fire at the following vampires.

And yelped as several more latched onto the roof of the car. Dipper screamed, grabbed the back of his seat, and tessered them, car and all, out of there, leaving vampires to fall onto the road where the car had been.

They landed outside the Mystery Shack, tires squealing and spinning a donut as they landed and Mabel fought to get the car under control.

They sat, panting and staring at each other silently, until Mabel threw her arms in the air with an ear-shattering “WHOO-HOO! MYSTERY TWINS VICTORY!”

Dipper just flopped over the back of the seat, panting, and facepalmed. He’d just tessered an entire car, and his sister knew he could now. This could only end badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why are shenanigans so hard to write?


	13. Demonic Allergies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic Open Season Prompt: transcendence au prompt: mabel and dipper find out that church incense causes dipper to sneeze uncontrollably. mabel finds it kind of hilarious.

The door to the church creaked open, and Mabel Pines, aka Mizar the Gleeful as she was beginning to be called (and she loved it), peeked around it.

Dipper floated in after her, still in the Mindscape, rubbing his hands together nervously. He’d only been a demon a couple of years now, he couldn’t just ‘pop’ into the physical plane yet to help Mabel, and they were going to go after a cult?

Just great. And a cult that set up base in a church, too. A cult devoted to ‘purifying the world of its evil’ or something, he wasn’t quite sure.

Then again, if the ‘evil’ they were getting rid of was other demons…well, they could probably do with a few less demons in the world.

Okay, so he was curious and wanted to know what they were up to, but that didn’t mean Mabel had to come along.

Except, of course, Mabel had other ideas. No way Dipper was going to be allowed to have an adventure by himself. Mystery Twins forever, according to Mabel.

The cult was in the basement, of course. Dipper was starting to get the impression that cults, as a whole, weren’t imaginative, and were creatures of habit no matter where they formed or why.

They’d also found Mabel sneaking around and dragged her into the basement. Apparently, one of them had just enough Sight to realize there was a demon hanging around Mabel and they were going to take this opportunity to ‘rid the world of evil’.

So now Dipper was silently freaked out, unable to affect the real world much at all and only able to watch as his sister mocked the cultists and walked them through drawing his circle.

He could, and already had, burned through the ties binding his sister, though she was still pretending to be tied up. Apart from that…he was still learning how to effect the real world, so unless Mabel could summon him to be on the physical plane he was so useless right now!

Then they started the summons and oh man this was bad this was _bad_ he wasn’t ready for this…

Dipper felt himself pulled into the circle and let himself go with it, not sure he could have resisted if he’d tried.

The cultists looked appropriately worried at his entrance, though his sister was biting back laughter. Seeing someone practice their dramatic entrance took all the drama out of it, especially when they kept screwing it up while you watched.

Oh crap they’d lit that church incense probably to try and hurt or trap him somehow and ignore it Dipper ignore it oh man it was potent no be scary“W̦̭͕͕̥̜̄ͯ̑h͔̫̪̩ͤͭ̋ͥ̿̓̆ò̫͖̣̹͐ͭͪ̚ ͎̋ͤd̹̯͗à̓ͤ͊̒͑́r̲͎͇̘̱͇ͥͮ̑e͉̘̣̩̮͉̍ͫͬͪs̳͔̰͚̃̐ͧ ͋s̺͎͍ͫu̟ͦͪͩ́̓̃m͙͕̹m̝̙̰̼̌̈́o̝͗͌̎̆n͉̥͐ͪͭͨ ̻̔Ă̖̟͕̤̎̃́ͯl͚͍̝͌̔̀̆̒̏͊c̥͓̈ͦͣ-̰̻̬̻̠̥ͫͥ̃” breathed in crapcrap _crap_ “A͉̲ͪ͛̈́̉h̞̲̘͇͉̪͖ͩ̀̿͌ ̰̱͑̈́̽-͍̝̺̘̇̑̿ Ẫ̞̠̘̼͘h͆ͤ̒ͥͬ͊̕҉̞ͅ ̔͏͕͔̼̦̦͚-̵͖̘̠̪̒̍ͬ A̵̡̖̩̫̟͉͎̯̮̖͙̿͋̾͂ẖ̵̲͓̯̺̤̹͉̞ͨ͂ͣͪ̐͋̅̀̆̏̈ͬ̀͝ ̡̥̰̗̏̆̽̃ͤ̿́̕͟͡-̶̡̐̐͒ͨͤ͊ͨ̾ͫͤ́҉̞̣̣̞̺̫̟̳̩͇̱̜̣̙͈ _tchew_ ” he sneezed, utterly ruining the dramatic introduction and bursting into flames, scooting back a foot within the circle with the force of the sneeze.

There was a stunned silence, broken only when Dipper sneezed again, and again, over and over, six in a row, one tiny, kitten sneeze after another, each more precious and twee than the last, and each accompanied by another burst of blue fire, making the candle flames turn blue and sputter with each sneeze, his floating meaning each sneeze made him float backwards in little spurts until he hit the edge of the circle, the force of his sneezing knocking over a few of the candles.

“Dip – Alcor, are you… _allergic_ to the _incense_?” Mabel asked incredulously into the even more shocked silence that followed Dipper’s sneeze attack.

“Į̷̬̬͚͚̰͖͇̄ͣ́̓͊̉̚͢ ͔͍͖͖̯͕̣ͧͧͧ͜A̛͓̣̭̜̲̩͂̑ͥͅM̘̲̗̪̌͒ͥ ̺̲̙̂ͣ̎͜Ṋ̵̶̜͚͍̜ͦ̑̍̐ͩ̐ͩ͟O̢̰̝̯̥̳̙̼̪͐̈́ͤͣ͊͌̚͢ ̡̮̘̫̌͑̌́̔̚͢-̨̤̰͍͈͖̤͉̊̒̎ͅ ̼̰̗ͮͣ̀͘͢ _A̢̰̝ͨ̚Ç̡̮̫̱̹̅̾̄̋̂̄H̝͚̣͈̼̯̪͖͙ͩ-_ _tew_ _,_ ” Dipper thundered, cut off by another sneeze.

Mabel burst into gut wrenching laughter as the cultists looked to each other in confusion, even more as the demon they’d called up floated over to the girl over the broken circle and began…arguing with her? While still sneezing. Constant sneezing. And arguing. Like siblings. But…demon? Human? What?

But…the demon was allergic to the incense. That was a good thing, right?

Except…he wasn’t writhing in pain, just sneezing. Uncontrollably. Tiny, twee little kitten sneezes. With tiny little bursts of blue flame that were almost…cute.

What.

Later, after everything was cleaned up and the smoke had cleared, Mabel could swear she heard the moment they broke their first cult’s worth of minds.

And it was a sweet, sweet sound.


	14. Dreidel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic Open Season Prompt: The Mystery Shack Crew playing dreidel.

“…that one means you take half the gelt, Soos,” Dipper reminded Soos from where he was floating above their heads, half the gold foil covered chocolate coins moving from the pile to in front of Soos.

“Grunkle Stan, quit hiding gelt in your pockets!” Mabel protested, pointing an accusing finger at her grunkle. “And Dipper, stop eating it! You can’t eat the gelt until we’re done and you know it!”

Dipper licked the last bit of chocolate off a claw (the little coins were harder than ever to open with claws) and blushed. “But it’s helping me stay physical!” he protested, aware he was coming close to whining.

Wendy rolled her eyes and tossed a piece of non-game chocolate up toward the ceiling without looking. “Here, now stop eating all the game pieces. Mabel, what’s this one mean again?”

“Put a token in. I saw that, Grunkle Stan!” Stan grumbled and returned the candy to the center of the table. Mabel glared at him until he rolled his eyes and pulled a few more pieces out of his pocket, tossing them down into the pot.

“You’re just cranky ‘cuz it’s hard to cheat at dreidel,” Dipper laughed at his Grunkle, floating down to give the top a spin for his turn and shrugging as it came up ‘do nothing’, rising back up to float above the table. “And Mabel keeps catching you.”

Stan grumbled as Dipper floated overhead, grinning in joy and starting to hum quietly under his breath. He’d missed this, and Mabel…she was having a blast.

Hard to play when two players refused to acknowledge the fourth, after all.

(And maybe, just maybe, Wendy and Soos found themselves with armfuls of demon and extra enthusiastic hugs before they started on their way home.)

(And just maybe they’d smiled and squeezed extra tight before heading off, still munching chocolate and laughing.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never gotten to play dreidel, so I had to look it up to be sure I got it right. :)


	15. Demonic Puberty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prompt Jar gave me “Eyes” earlier this month and somehow, this is what came out.

The first clue they had that Dipper wasn’t just a ghost came the first time he sneezed.

They’d been sitting and watching an old movie with Grunkle Stan (their parents had arrived the day before but they didn’t understand the way Grunkle Stan did, thought Mabel was imagining Dipper to try and cope with whatever had happened, so the twins were sticking around their Grunkle as long as they could) when Dipper sneezed, just as tiny and cute and kittenish as ever.

And accompanied by a burst of blue, demonic flame bursting out over Dipper’s entire body.

He promptly freaked out, and so did Mabel, beating on Dipper’s arm to put him out as their grunkle demanded to know what was going on, dumping his drink over Dipper when Mabel freaked about “Blue fire! Blue fire!”.

They couldn’t decide if it was creepy or lucky that the fire didn’t leave so much as a smudge of soot on anything around Dipper when they finally put it out. Dipper, on the other hand, looked a bit crisp around the edges.

Mabel, once everyone had calmed down, decided it meant she needed to start carrying marshmallows around in case Dipper felt the need to sneeze again.

——————————————————-

A month after they went home, Dipper found himself staring at his hands.

It had just been out of depression at first, despondent that whatever let him interact with the physical world seemed to be so random, letting Mabel buckle him into the seat belt for the ride home (Mabel had insisted on Dipper wearing his seat belt in the car, despite being insubstantial, and their parents had spent the entire ride home giving the filled seat belt with no visible user confused, worried, and slightly frightened looks in the mirror), yet not letting him pick up a pen to write down what was happening to him.

Then he’d noticed his nails.

They’d never been particularly nice nails – Dipper was always too eager to dive in and find things out to take special care of his nails, so they’d often had dirt under them or been a bit ragged along the edges – but they’d never been sharp before.

They weren’t very sharp, but they were longer than they’d ever been before, smoother, and he could have sworn they were getting a point to the end of them. More like…like claws, then nails. They didn’t look right, anymore. They didn’t look human.

He buried his hands in his hair as he silently began to freak and froze as his hands brushed against his ear. No, no, it couldn’t…he rushed to the bathroom, for once not caring that he went through a wall in his haste to get to a mirror.

The tip of his ear was pointed. Not by much, but he could tell. He was sure of it – and his teeth, were they sharper now too?!

The worst part about all of it, in Dipper’s opinion, was that there was no one he could talk to about this other than Mabel, and no one who could have seen him to give an opinion even if they could have heard him.

For all he knew, he was panicking and imagining all of it, but there was no one he could ask but Mabel, and she wouldn’t be home for an hour yet. (He wasn’t going to school with her everyday anymore, since the day he’d accidentally set the backpack of one of her tormenters on fire. Lucky for Mabel, it was blamed on something else, but it didn’t help her popularity.)

But not matter how much he wanted to believe he was imagining it…he clenched his fists and felt the new, sharper nails bite into his hands.

He…he really wasn’t human anymore, he realized. He wanted to think he was imagining this, but the proof was there, right in front of him. There wasn’t a cure, in the journals or anywhere. This…this was what he was always going to be like, from now on.

Giving in, he curled up on the floor of the bathroom, silently crying as the lights flickered in time to his sobs.

——————————————————————-

His nails, ears, and teeth continued to change as the months passed. By the time the twin’s thirteenth birthday came around they weren’t human at all anymore, and Dipper was almost glad no one but Mabel could see what was happening to him, whatever it was.

Mabel teased him that he was turning into a kitten, with cute little kitten claws and kitten teeth and kitten ears and a kitten sneeze, and their room echoed with calls of “Dippy-cat”, no matter how much it made their parents wince.

(He’d managed to go solid once, and they’d seen him. They’d taken one look at his sharper teeth, the claws forming on his fingertips and ears that already were longer than a human’s and came to a point, and, well…it hadn’t gone well. At least they believed Mabel now.)

But as much as any of them tried to deny it, much as Dipper tried to pretend everything was going to be fine, it was obvious just what was happening to him, despite how impossible it sounded. He still gave off bursts of blue fire when he sneezed (which Mabel continued to find hilarious) and new powers when he got upset (which was less hilarious), and despite every journal, every book, they could find on the subject saying it was impossible…there was no denying it.

————————————————————————-

As they neared their fourteenth birthday, he got the powers more and more under some semblance of control – but each time he thought he had them, they grew, or he discovered something new.

Sometimes he forgot that his nails were claws now, his teeth fangs, until he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, or he went to brush his hair out of his face or scratch an itch or a dozen other little things he’s done a million times before and managed to hurt himself, left a bleeding scratch that he watched close as if it never was in seconds.

There were times he would go half mad from seeing it, clawing at himself as the cuts closed almost as quickly as he made them, blood that should have been red but was now more gold with red highlights smeared across his arms, streaking down his legs, and when he finally broke down and cried the tears were a watery gold no human had ever cried – and likely no demon, either. It was unlikely demons could cry, but Dipper was turning into a demon, and he did. He did cry, in despair and frustration, at what was happening to him day by day.

In short, he was a mess, and he knew it.

——————————————————————

Then their grandparents came for a visit, a month after they turned fifteen. Their grandparents, who visited once a year at best, since their mother had married into the ‘ungodly’ Pines family. Their grandparents, the fundamentalists, the traditionalists, who could lecture for hours on their idea of sin and believed in strict gender roles, who had already driven Mabel to sweater town once before for being ‘different’ (Read: not quiet, meek, and biddable) and Dipper to the woods for the same (Too bookish, quiet, curious).

Dipper left the house early at Mabel’s urging. Their parents still only had a suspicion of what Dipper was changing into (willful ignorance was a wonderful thing), and if it was true…neither twin wanted their grandparents around him. Dipper tried to talk Mabel into coming with him, but their parents wanted one twin there, their grandparents would be more difficult if they suspected the twins to be hiding from them, and Mabel, well, was Mabel, and willing to try.

Dipper was messing about in the patch of forest near their home, lighting bursts of blue fire from his hands and staring at it, seeing if he could control it, when he felt something, like a tug on his soul, and some part of him knew it was Mabel.

And she was utterly devastated and his twin was hurting and he needed to get to her now now now.

He didn’t remember getting back to the house, getting Mabel out, or anything that happened after. He came back to his senses in his sister’s arms, by the edge of a lake he’d boiled dry, still feeling her tears soaking his shirt, the arms wrapped around each other tight enough to hurt, though some part of him had kept his claws from hurting his sister despite the grip he had on her.

The whole story came out as she calmed down, in bits a pieces – how their parents had tried to explain what had happened to their grandparents, and how their grandparents had utterly freaked out. The sermon, the lecture, the yelling. Talk of exorcism, of separating the twins ‘for their own good’, casting Dipper out to go to hell where demons belonged and sending Mabel to be locked away from decent folk, how they’d brought this upon themselves with their sinful ways, of institutions and churches and convents.

Almost all directed at Mabel.

And their parents only put up the most token of defenses to most of it, like their mom’s parents were saying all the things they thought but weren’t saying.

And then Dipper showed up and the walls lost their color and he got them out of there, and, and…

“Dipper, your eyes,” Mabel mourned, cradling his face in her hands. (Touch, a little part of him trilled, even as he started panicking.) “They’re…”

He reached up to touch by his eye, hand shaking. With a wrench of power he hadn’t known he could use the lake was refilled and he leaned over to look into it.

He wasn’t sure what he expected to see reflected back at him, but for his sclera to have gone black, his iris gold, and the pupils gone completely…he turned slowly to look at Mabel and winced, backing away from her, covering his eyes.

Her arms wrapped around his head and they sat there, rocking slowly, until their parents came to find them.

(They found out later how their parents had been stunned during the explosion and Dipper’s reaction but had defended them after, refusing to consider sending Mabel away and banning their grandparents from their home. The damage was done, but it…helped. A little. Except that it was obvious that they agreed with at least some of what their parents had said. So not as much as it could have, but still.)

——————————————————————————

They didn’t take much convincing after that incident to let Mabel – and by extension, Dipper – move back to Gravity Falls with Grunkle Stan for good. It wasn’t the only incident they’d had between all of them, it was simply the last straw for the twins and their parents both.

They loved each other, but…this time, it just wasn’t enough.

————————————————————

Grunkle Stan was surprisingly supportive even as he pretended not to be, in his own gruff way.

He certainly reacted better than their parents had when Mabel’s first attempts at summonings let Dipper be corporal for awhile, especially the first time.

He’d just stared, silently, measuring Dipper’s new eyes, changed ears, the sharp teeth and claws for an uncomfortably long time as Dipper shifted under the scrutiny, terrified of what his Grunkle would say, before finally speaking. “Your sister’s right. Ya look like a kitten, kid.” Then he cackled and high-fived Mabel, and everything was right in the world of the Mystery Shack again.

Everyone around them was a little uncomfortable at first, but despite everything they still cared enough about the twins to cope with the whole ‘Dipper is turning into a demon’ thing.

It helped that Dipper didn’t act very different yet from the twelve year old who’d come down for the summer and ended up saving the world. Even if they couldn’t see him, if everything he said had to be relayed through Mabel, it still showed.

This was Gravity Falls. They’d seen weirder. They were the epicenter of weird.

———————————————————————

On their sixteenth birthday, the twins headed back to the Mystery Shack from spending the day together in the woods (the last three birthdays had been spent the same, alone save for each other, since it hurt both less to be just the two of them than it was to see their parents so unsure over if they should put Dipper’s name on the cake or not, if they could or should give him a piece, to know their parents hadn’t bought any presents for their son).

At most, they thought they might get a grunted “Happy Birthday or somethin’” from their Grunkle, maybe an offer to choose something from the gift shop as a present.

Then they opened the door and froze at the shouts of “Surprise!” from inside. They stumbled, a little ‘pop’ noise coming from Dipper’s back that they didn’t notice in their shock and the rush of noise.

Open mouthed, they stared at the crowd crammed into the Mystery Shack and beginning to stream in from the woods at the front, where they’d been hiding, still laughing and cheering.

Soos, Wendy, Grenda, and Candy stood at the front of the pack, right beside Grunkle Stan, and the table was piled with presents – and a cake, a huge cake, with 'Happy Birthday Mabel and Dipper' written on it in huge, almost day-glo icing.

And beside the table was the summoning circle Dipper and Mabel had created, candles already alight and ready and waiting.

“Well, what’re you waiting for?” Wendy asked, leaning against the table. “Let’s summon us up a demon and party!”

Mabel turned to look at Dipper, her eyes already brimming with joyful tears, and burst out laughing as she got a good look at her brother.

He cocked his head to the side, and she laughed harder. “Hurry, hurry up and summon him, guys! You gotta see this! You startled Dipper into growing wings! Dipper you grew wings and they’re so tiny and adorable!”

Dipper’s affronted declaration that he was not adorable was cut off by Mabel and Wendy rushing through the summoning, dragging him into the center of the circle and corporeality in the middle of his sentence.

He twisted as soon as he was physical to see what Mabel was talking about. Wings sounded cool…but these were tiny. Tiny little bat wings, popping out of the small of his back and flaring when he gave them an experimental twitch.

…of all places for him to get wings, why his lower back? That didn’t seem to make any sense at all!

Silently he winced, waiting for the derision to start, the horrified looks at one more sign that he was a demon, that he wasn’t human and never would be again. (Or at least for Mabel to start calling them something ridiculous, like butt-wings. He knew his sister. It was only a matter of time.)

“Cool wings, bro,” Wendy said, giving him a wink and thumbs up.

“C’mon, Dipdot, give ‘em a go!” Mabel cheered. Dipper looked over his shoulder at them again and debated if it was a good idea, but tried anyway.

It took a few goes before they moved, fluttering rapidly and buzzing.

They also lifted him off the ground hips first as he flailed before they sputtered to a halt, letting him drop a foot back towards the ground before he caught himself.

Grunkle Stan cackled. “Really flying by the seat of your pants now, kid,” he crowed, slapping his knee and cackling until he choked.

And that was it. The most dramatic change since his eyes and that was the worst he got, save some more ribbing throughout the night, mostly from his sister and Grunkle. (Mabel did call them butt-wings. She also continued to call them adorable. He…really hadn’t expected anything else.)

Dipper just hoped his body was done throwing weird changes at him already and went to join the party. It was his first party in four years, and he wasn’t going to let a new set of anything stop him from enjoying it.

Maybe he’d get lucky and this would be the last inhuman change his body would spring on him.

——————————————————————-

(Two years later he’d turn into a star with bat wings and a little top hat after a sneeze fit and it would take three hours to turn back to normal. By that point, he almost figured he’d been due something weird.)


	16. Mabel's Guide to Demon Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic Open Season Prompt: Mabel making "Guide to Life"s whenever he gets solid to cheer him up, especially when they still live with their parents. Later, she also makes a Mabel guide to Deals.

“...Mabel, just because I can go solid sometimes now doesn't mean I'll show up on film.”

“Shoosh, Dipdop, we don't know that yet. Hey world, this is Mabel's Guide to Dealing With Your Demon Brother!”

There was a flourish of glitter and Mabel held up her glittered, handmade title card up to the camera.

“So, first step! You need to remember that not everyone can see your brother now!”

“Mabel, no one else got turned into demons by the...the...you know, so who's this supposed to...”

Dipper was cut off as Mabel tossed a sweater over his head, voice muffled as he flailed about, trying to get his head free of the yarn as Mabel chattered. 

“At first you might think that just adding lots of sequins and glitter will do the trick, but it disappears right along with him, see? Sweater's gone! Okay, bro-bro, can you go solid now for a kit-kat?”

It shouldn't be possible for someone to take physical form sullenly, but Dipper managed.

“See, sparkly and attention getting, but it doesn't work when he's not solid! Not even the bells!”

Face impassive, Dipper held up an arm and gave it a little shake, setting the bells sewn along the sleeve to jingling. 

“See, you never even heard those! Now, we're going to try...”

(Ten years later, the first of the youtube series “Mabel's Updated Guide to Dealing with Demons” would be an internet hit. Especially the episodes where Alcor showed up behind her, goofing off and being silly or just draped over her shoulders like an oversized cat.)

(Dipper would never say how much he appreciated those videos, stored them away and watched them when he needed a reminder of how much he was loved, had been loved, even when the ones who were supposed to love and be there for him and his twin didn't and weren't, when it seemed like the whole world was against him.)


	17. A Chance Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt jar and several ideas on the blog are responsible for this.
> 
> There's probably going to be more.

Beryl Jones crossed her legs and sulked outside the Gravity Falls elementary.

When her parents had announced they were moving to Gravity Falls, she’d thought there would be more excitement. This was where The Transcendence happened, where magic was reborn, it should be more…magical than this.

It was supposed to be the home of Alcor the Dreambender, and the Pines family, and everything else magic, and so far the most magical thing she’d seen had been the gnomes by the edge of the forest, who admittedly were much better groomed and bolder than the ones in their old city.

And now she was stuck picking up her annoying little brother, just like always. She sighed again and kicked a pebble across the playground. He was late, probably to annoy her, like usual.

Finally he came bursting out of the school, chattering rapidly with three other kids – taller than him, red headed, looked like they were siblings.

Brian caught her eye and waved, saying a cheerful goodbye to his new friends and rushing over.

He started chattering almost before he was close enough for her to hear him, and she rolled her eyes as they started walking toward her car (it was a piece of crap but it was the best she could afford on her part time job) but despite her disinterest she caught a few words – ‘Pines’, ‘triplets’, and ‘Uncle’.

She glanced back in time to see the kids lay a piece of paper down on the ground and chant something while standing around it, and she froze as black smoke billowed out of the paper.

Grabbing Brian, she ducked down behind the small wall that surrounded the elementary school parking lot, keeping him down and out of sight, hushing him irritably when he protested.

Gingerly she peeked back over the wall, and her breath caught in her throat. A demon, a real, honest-to-goodness demon!

She listened to them talk, watched the kids offer candy for a trip home and be accepted, and saw them all disappear in a flash of blue fire before sliding down the wall to sit, panting.

Brian was complaining so she shoved him in the car and drove them home. There was something off about the whole thing, and she thought about it all through dinner, staying home that evening and thinking it through and not quite able to realize just what it was that was teasing her about the encounter.

She locked herself in her room and wrote down everything she could remember, from how the demon looked (very nice, if she remembered correctly. Quite dapper suit, soft looking hair, very easy on the eyes…how the hell was that a demon? Weren’t they supposed to have extra eyes or something? Terrifying horrors humans weren’t meant to see?) to how the kids had summoned him.

Scraps of the summon they’d used went down in the notebook, and she paused as she remembered the name they’d used to call him…no. No way.

No. Freaking. Way.

Giggling, Beryl threw herself onto her bed, stifling her squeals with the pillow.

She’d have to make sure, but…she saw Alcor! And he was even cuter than the books said! Just wait until she told her friends from back home!

—————————————————————-

Now that Beryl had seen Alcor once, it seemed like she saw glimpses of him everywhere. Almost always with three tiny, red headed shadows, grabbing his arms or legs and calling him ‘Uncle’, which she thought odd. How could a demon be an uncle?

But then the kids ran to someone they called ‘mom’ and Beryl watched with narrow eyes and jealousy gnawing at her stomach as Alcor floated over and hugged the woman as happily as the kids had.

Wait…that meant that woman had to be…she’d actually seen Mizar, and wasn’t that going to be something to brag about later, to her friends back at their old home, who had to use their imaginations to picture her!

Still Beryl kept an eye out, listened, and was relieved to find out that Mizar was Alcor’s twin sister, not his wife, so there was one thing Twin Souls got wrong.

Though that didn’t keep her from re-reading it later, and Ravished by the Demon King, In the Arms of the Demon King, and every other Alcor-themed book she could get her hands on. Though it was odd that she had to order them online or through the school library.

She’d thought a library of the paranormal would have had them in stock, but apparently they kept disappearing.

And then she’d seen Mizar’s husband, and wow, that man was all height. And freckles. And it was easy to see where the kids got that hair from, and it was a little funny how he towered over both demon and…whatever Mizar was. Beryl wasn’t convinced the woman was a demon, but she wasn’t fully convinced she was human, either.

But even more than Mizar and her husband she saw Alcor, at the store, at the school, at the diner, and the more often she saw Alcor, usually with a small child hanging from him, the more real he became, rather than the abstract idea Twin Souls had given her.

And the more she saw, the more she wanted, despite knowing she shouldn’t, couldn’t even bring herself to go up to him and speak to him despite his having a small child hanging off him nearly every time she saw him, without it being obvious she’d been watching them and what demon wanted to know they’d been watched all the time?

…then again, he was a demon, he might find it flattering. And she couldn’t stop. And she rather thought he knew she was watching and was maybe even flattered.

She knew she should stop. No matter what he looked like, how gentle he seemed to be with Mizar, and Mizar’s husband, and the children, she shouldn’t want him like this.

But oh, she wanted, so, so, badly.

——————————————————————-

Then one of the triplets dropped a paper with a summoning circle on it, the one she had heard the triplets say was supposed to work every time. It was fate.

Beryl saved up and bought the fanciest outfit she could, one she’d had her eyes on for months but hadn’t quite worked up the gumption to go buy. It was perfect, just like everything had to be if this was going to work.

She waited for two days after her eighteenth birthday, when her parents were going out of town and taking Brian with them, and she would have the house to herself for the entire weekend.

They trusted her not to have a party or do anything silly while they were gone. Well, she wasn’t being silly. She needed to do this.

She lit the candles and, with hands shaking from anticipation and nerves, recited the Latin that would call Alcor to her.

———————————————————-

The kids were (finally) in bed when Dipper felt the faint tugs of a summon. It felt like someone outside the family was trying to use the family summoning circle, which was…odd. (Dipper could tell – each person who had the right to use the family summoning circle had their own symbol on it, and whoever was using this one didn’t have a symbol on the circle. Plus, the circles were drawn so he’d know it was family summoning him, and bypass other summons for it, and this…didn’t feel quite right.)

He shrugged, deciding there was only one way to see who’d gotten their hands on a family circle and how, and went to answer it, coming out of the circle in the swirl of smoke he’d found most effective. “W̗͇̳̳͙̭ͅh̴̘̦̳̰̫̆ͨo̳̲̺͙ͥͭ̒ͯ͢ ̠̯d͔̫͉͚̖̠̃ͧͮ̃ͨͦą̞̤̹̟͈ͯͬ͑r̍ͪ̓ͯ͏ě̱̼͉̙ͦͪ̑͐͡s̟̙ͣͯ͊̈́͞…what?” he said, stopping partway through his introduction to stare blankly at the room he’d been summoned to.

Not a cellar like he’d more than half expected, and no hooded cultists in sight. A frilly, soft bedroom instead, with a white four poster against the wall, the covers already turned down invitingly.

The room was scented lightly with a bouquet of roses set on the bureau, and lit by candles, tall and white and (thankfully) unscented, scattered around the room as well as around the circle.

The soft light glittered across the golden dress his summoner was wearing, one that looked suspiciously similar to the ‘seductive’ nightgown Pacifica had given Mabel at her bachlorette party (he’d suspected it had been chosen to embarrass her, though Mabel was impossible to embarrass. Her brother, though…). Short, barely covering his summoner’s thighs, held up with tiny spaghetti straps and with an equally short and filmy robe over it, it shone in the dim light.

His summoner glanced up at him flirtatiously from under her lashes, blushing softly and smiling.

This…wasn’t going to end well, was it?

“Wͭ̐̑ͮh̺̋͒́̐ͣͩ͆͞y ̜͖̮̙ͧͩͦ̔ͣ̚̕h̛̪̑a̫̠̔͒̔v͖̯̖̺͑̃̓̈́͂e̞̝̘̺̐̇̌͋̇̇ ̰͙͉̭̠̆͆͗ͅy̛̹̠͖͔ͅoͫͯ̉́҉̼͙u͍͜ ̮̗̤̔ͯ̽͊͒ͦsͥ̈̈́͏ů̥̭̼̏ͅm̭͈̗̈̿m͓͙͐ͬ̈̈́̊͠o̳̤̰͙͇͔̊̒͗̓̍͂̎͘n̿͋͐͛ͩ͛͌e̶̼̬̫͚ḏ͕̩̗̻̬ͭ͆̚͞ ̃͗ͦ̃͊̉͢m̧̥̫̠̈́͛̆e̫̘͖?͇̻̹̬̙̼̙ͭ̓̆̍͒̏ͣ ” he asked, hoping he was wrong and adding a little extra demonic reverb to his voice to be extra discouraging, already mentally flailing and hoping against hope that he wasn’t blushing yet. (Unlikely, it was almost laughably easy to make him blush despite the whole demon thing and he could feel the heat traveling across his face and ears and down his neck already.)

His summoner stepped closer to the circle, the edge of the robe slipping off her shoulder as she looked up at him with what she obviously believed to be smoldering eyes.

“Lord Alcor, I have called you here that I may humbly serve you and satisfy your desires,” she said, and Dipper tried to stay impassive even as he freaked out inwardly and went even redder.

She dropped the robe to the floor as she stepped closer, not noticing Dipper stepping backwards as she reached for him, pressing against Dipper’s chest and gripping his lapels, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. (Dipper was flailing too hard inwardly to stop her, his brain having nearly shut down over it all and giving her an opportunity that she took without realizing just why he hadn’t stopped her.)

“It’s my first time,” she whispered, her arms coming up to twine around Dipper’s neck and pressing closer to him. “Be gentle with me, my Lord.”

Going to tiptoe, she pressed her lips against the unresponsive Dipper’s, and the shock to his system finally kicked his brain back on. In a flash he noped out of there, leaving the girl alone in her room with empty arms.

——————————————————————————

Dipper landed on the couch in the Shack with a thump – the summoning would help him stay corporeal for a bit – and stared blankly at the ceiling in shock, still waiting for his brain to reboot and so bright red it almost hurt.

Did that…really just happen? Did someone seriously just summon him to have him…have him ravish them?

He made a face, feeling nausea being to pool in his stomach as he scrubbed at his lips. Why the hell would someone summon him for…for that?

That was it, he was going to blame those awful novels that had been circulating lately. No way was he telling Mabel about this, though. She’d just laugh, maybe suggest he should have stuck around and given the girl a lecture or something.

Still feeling weirded out and more than a little nauseated now, Dipper grabbed a pillow and buried his face in it, letting out a frustrated scream.

Did. Not. Want.


	18. An Introduction to Dipnip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt jar said 'cat', so of course I had to write about the first time Mabel saw Dipper high off dipnip.

Mabel flipped through her book, looking at the pages without really seeing them.

Dipper had gotten pulled away from the Shack right in the middle of the two of them helping Grunkle Stan as he turned it into a Library by a summons, and despite everything Mabel was worried.

It seemed like Dipper was getting summoned more and more often, like the whole...thing...had made people aware of demons and spawned a million cults and they all were summoning demons left and right and this couldn't be good for Dipper's mental health.

Last time he'd been summoned he'd gone into sweater town for two days.

As if she'd called him with her thoughts alone, Mabel's brother blipped into existence above the recliner she was sprawled out in, belly flopping down onto her and knockin an “Ooomph” out of both of them.

“Ow, bro, you're heavy,” Mabel complained, covering her relief. Letting Dipper know just how worried she was over him at times would just make him worry, and letting Dipper worry about this sort of thing started a downward spiral that lead to hiding in the Mindscape or forks and golden blood.

Dipper just gave a little groan, curling into her lap and making the chair creak in protest.

“Oh, hey, you're solid! That's great!” Mabel said happily, before sniffing. “Aaaand you smell funky. Maybe you should try, yanno, showering?”

“Why?” Dipper groaned from where his face was mashed into Mabel's stomach. “It'll all go 'way in th' Mindscape an'way. Ugh, m' head feels funny.”

Curious and more than a little worried – because what happened on that summons that Dipper wasn't feeling right, he was a demon, they didn't get sick but he was slurring his words – Mabel took another sniff of her brother.

He smelled...sort of smokey, and kind of sweet, in a sort of overly, almost sickly sweet, way. “Dipper, what exactly happened at that summons?”

Dipper yawned, widely, wider than usual, his mouth opening farther than a human's physically could, suddenly forked tongue (it hadn't been forked before he'd gone to the summons just great was that something else that was going to happen to her brother now?) flickering out for a moment. “Um...they were burnin' somethin'...” he said sleepily. “Ac'ually smelled kinda good...”

O...kay, that was weird, Mabel thought. Dipper hated scented stuff, worse now that he was a demon than he had before, be it candles or incense or anything artificially scented. 

She tapped her brother on the head. “C'mon, dippin dot, you're supposed to be all knowy now. What were they burning and what'd it do?”

Dipper didn't answer, his eyes fixed on the point of light on the other wall reflecting off Mabel's earring. She gave her head a little shake, the light dropping to the tabletop by their chair and biting back giggles as her brother batted at the dancing spot with balled hands.

“Dipper, are you high?” she asked, keeping the worry tucked away and giggling at the indignant look on her brother's face.

“Demons 'n't 'ffected by human drugs,” he said, the indignation cutting though his muddled state – which was progressively getting worse – enough for him to respond coherently. Mostly. “Wuz...was...Yggdrasil...” he said around another huge yawn, eyes drooping.

Mabel stared as her brother curled up until he was completely on top of her, balled hands kneading at her upper chest once he'd gotten comfortable. Apparently satisfied, he dropped his head to his crossed hands and nuzzled close, hair tickling Mabel's chin as he rubbed his cheek on her sweater clad shoulder.

Even if she was confused and worried over her brother, Mabel still bit back a giggle at his sleepy, cuddly, and downright adorable (though he'd protest ever being called adorable) antics. Dipper always got cuddly when he was over tired, warm, and on the very edge of sleep. And he had good reason to be over tired lately, worrying about and blaming himself for every little thing, even if it was better now that they were back home in Gravity Falls – and, apparently, drugged into compliance.

Smiling, Mabel freed a hand from under her brother, ignoring Dipper's protesting growl as he was jostled by her wiggling to stroke at his hair. He might be high or somehow messed up by that smoke, but at least he was actually resting for once. Getting Dipper to rest was an unwinnable battle when he didn't feel like it.

Unless you knew the little tricks – like running fingers through a tired Dipper's hair. Knocked him right out every time.

Then Dipper started making a strange rumbling noise, loud and hard enough to vibrate the chair they were in, and Mabel froze in surprise.

A single gold on black eye opened a sliver, the rumbling stopping as Dipper let out a discontented little mewing noise.

Smothering another laugh, since her brother was actually almost asleep for once, Mabel started moving her hand again, tossing in some gentle scratching and unable to quite hold back a laugh as Dipper moved his head into the scritches, the rumbling starting up again stronger than before.

“Dippy-cat,” she laughed softly, giving an extra scratch when Dipper didn't protest the nickname. Honestly, he was so out of it she doubted he even realized she was teasing him

Mabel leaned back in the recliner, starting to feel sleepy herself from her brother's warmth and rumbling purr.

A little nap wouldn't hurt. And later she could add notes to Dipper's journal about Yggdrasil and its effect on her brother.

If it always made him act like this, she thought she just might call it 'Dipnip'.


	19. Don't Mention the Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic open season prompt: Mabel has a journal where she wrote all the Things Not To Say To Dipper. She gave a copy to Stan when they moved to Gravity Falls and one to Henry. Stan still managed to fuck up once as he asked him "Since when do you have a great taste in clothing?" Dipper moped for a week.

Stan grumbled, sitting down at the tiny metal table in the Shack-being-turned-to-Library's kitchen. The notebook sitting innocently in front of him on the table was covered in five kinds of glitter and about half a dozen stickers, not counting the five different alphabet styles of sticker that spelled out “Dealing With My Demon Brother: A Guide By Mabel Pines” across the cover.

Mabel had shoved the thing at him about a week after they'd come to stay the first summer after it all went down, and been updating it constantly since then from her own well-worn copy every time they came back.

He hadn't bothered to do more than flip through it once since she'd pushed it on him, since it seemed mostly like regular Dipper things. And he knew how to deal with demons, somewhat. So why bother with a guide?

Besides, it was Dipper. Demon or not, corporeal or not, he was still the sweaty and awkward kid Stan knew, and if he got out of line Stan had a squirt bottle of diluted holy water on hand. (He wanted to discourage the kid, not hurt him. He was a conman and a liar but dammit he still loved those kids, so squirting Dipper? Sure, that was funny. Hurting Dipper, not so much. So, diluted. Not that he could tell always tell when he hit Dipper, apart from whatever Dipper was trying to move falling to the floor as he lost his grip. Still funny.)

He still wouldn't have opened it if Mabel hadn't found it and given him the mix of disappointed and pleading eyes that even this old man couldn't resist, hardened as he was to just about everything else.

Apparently, now that they were living with Stan on a permanent basis, he needed to know the ups and downs of living with a demonic Dipper.

He still figured it wasn't much different than living with a regular Dipper, but eh, apparently Dipper was 'getting control of his powers' or 'going through demonic puberty' or something.

The kid had had three years to get things down, Stan would hope the kid had started to figure things out by now.

Then again, if this meant the kids felt better after the meltdown that was the relationship between themselves and their parents...

Well, Stan would suffer through glitter and stickers for that, it looked like. Could've been worse.

Had been worse.

 

Three days later and Stan was left blinking at the space where Dipper had been actually corporal for once only seconds before. Mabel watched as her invisible brother shot through the ceiling up towards their old room in the attic before turning sad eyes on her Grunkle.

“Grunkle Stan,” she said reproachfully, “Didn't you read the guide I gave you?”

“I read it. Your Grunkle's old, sweetie,” he grunted defensively. “I can't remember everything.”

“It's right on page ten,” Mabel said, grabbing the book from where Stan had left it on the counter and flipping though it. “See? 'Things Not To Say To Dipper'. 'Don't mention the suit. He's worried he looks like Bill, and it makes him wonder how much of Bill is in him now.'”

Stan winced and hid it. Of course the kid would worry about something like that. It was a legitimate enough worry, really. And this was Dipper, kid could find something to worry about in everything.

Aaand now Mabel was watching him with those big eyes, the ones that shouldn't work anymore but instead seemed to get more effective (probably because she was saving them up for special occasions) and Stan groaned.

“Fine,” he half heartedly growled, shoving away from the table, “I'll go...I dunno, poke him or somethin'.” He slouched his way out of the kitchen to the stairs, pretending not to hear Mabel's demand of “Apologize!”

The attic bedroom looked empty, though Stan was pretty sure Dipper was in there. Mopey demon, he was realizing, left a feel to the air, like rain that hadn't let up for a week, a heaviness that was hard to shake off.

Huh. Mopey demon. Only Dipper could manage that.

Stan sat down on the end of Dipper's bed, silently hoping Dipper was closer to the head and he wasn't actually sitting on his great nephew.

The silence in the attic grew more awkward by the minute until Stan finally coughed into his hand. “Uh...you still up here kid?” he asked. There was no answer and he rolled his eyes. “Right. Mindscape. Can't hear you. So, uh...”

The silence grew again as Stan rubbed at the back of his neck. “Kinda awkward talkin' to thin air here, kid. Not even sure if you're up here, really.”

A pillow was tossed at him and Stan grunted as it impacted with his head, knocking off his fez.

“Guess so. Fair enough,” he grunted. “Ah, look. You're too damn stubborn for your own good, kid. Too stubborn to let Bill take you over now that he's gone.”

There was more awkward silence, though Stan fancied he could almost make out Dipper saying something – probably something sarcastic.

The 'hearing-Dipper-aids' were apparently coming along better than they'd thought.

Stan grunted again. Talking to Dipper was hard enough when he could hear what the kid said back, this was just ridiculous. And awkward.

So a bit like Dipper all the time, really.

“Look, kid, I don't know why you changed how you look. It was about time anyway.”

A pen on the desk lifted and scribbled on a scrap of paper, faltering more than once. It was more than a little creepy, in Stan's opinion, but if the kid couldn't be corporal enough to talk to...well, at least he was managing some kind of communication. Apparently it took a lot out of the kid to do this much, so for once Stan was going to keep his commentary to himself.

The note that got tossed at Stan was scribbly and hard to understand, and it was pretty obvious Dipper hadn't quite gotten the hang of holding onto physical objects yet when he himself wasn't corporeal.

“...what is that, a fish? Oh, wait, it's a...p? Yeah, so that's a...” Stan muttered, turning the paper around and around in his hands. “You...wanted to...cook? No, look...professional? Huh. Well, it's better than the shorts.”

The feeling of mopey demon grew heavier in the air, and Stan rolled his eyes. “Sheesh, kid, it's just clothes. They change. You look fine. Besides, it's not like that isosceles jackass wore clothes. If you were going for his look it'd be a bow tie and top hat and nothing else.” Stan paused before adding, “Don't do that, by the way. You do that and ...I'll get your sister to bedazzle the journals,” he said, swapping it for his initial threat of 'you're dead to me'.

Stan may not have been the most sensitive of people (see reason for current situation) but even he could see the line. Usually just in time to go racing over them, but he saw them.

The air in the attic lightened somewhat, so apparently it was the right thing to say.

“Heck, I wear suits too. Gets the customers to trust you.”

The pen skittered across the paper again, messier than before but a shorter message – 'I know :)'.

Stan would never admit to anyone just what that little scribble meant to him. “You imitating your old grunkle now, kid?” he teased instead. “What's next, you gonna try and get me to teach you how to con people?”

'Yes.'

Stan stared in quiet shock at the simple note in his hand. Of the twins, he'd always thought, if either of them were to follow in his conniving footsteps, it would be Mabel, not the easily flustered, can't lie to save his life Dipper.

A slow, evil grin spread over his face, a grin of pure, spiteful glee. If there was anyone to teach a demon how to make a deal, then it was him. By the time he was done, cultists would rue the day they tried to cheat his kids.

“Okay, kid, pay attention. Let's start with the basics. First thing, you gotta get 'em to trust you, think you know what you're doing. That's what the suit's for. Look professional, snappy, it's all in the image. Now, next thing you gotta do...”


	20. A Chance Encounter Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My friend kept coming up with more ideas for this particular storyline until I gave in and started writing it, as it was too funny not to. It's looking to be four parts long in total, unless we get more ideas (or someone else does.)
> 
> Note - there's an attempt at date rape in this scene. It doesn't succeed, but it's attempted. They don't think that's what they're doing, but it is. If you'd rather not read that part, next chapter is an alternate version, more PG rated.

Back in her room, Beryl stared in disbelief at the empty circle and the distinct lack of demon, who'd been solid in her arms just seconds ago. No, no, no! Why'd he leave?

 

Was it her? Did she...?

 

No, something went wrong, it had to be that! She'd quoted _Ravished by the Demon King_ , she'd used the right circle, done the right incantation...she must have needed a better sacrifice, so he could stay with her longer. Or he'd had a more powerful summons drag him away. That had to be it.

 

Or...maybe he was used to summoners trying to seduce him. She'd have to step up her game.

 

Besides, if he'd wanted her to stop, well...he was a demon. He could have let her know she was unwanted easily enough!

 

She rubbed her arms, biting her lip as she remembered the feel of him under her hands, so solid and warm, and the feel of his mouth on hers, brief as it had been.

 

No, she wasn't going to give up until she got a good, proper taste of all of him.

 

 

Mabel had found out what happened, of course. Mabel always found out, somehow. (Then again, it had taken a while to recover from the whole thing and try to forget it. There was no such thing as demonic brain bleach, and drinking wouldn't get rid of the memory for Dipper. At least she waited until he recovered before teasing him about it and making light of the whole thing.)

 

“It _wasn't funny_ , Mabel,” Dipper repeated again, well aware that it was a chorus he had to repeat far too often for a demon.

 

“But _Dipper_ ,” she laughed, skipping ahead of him to turn and walk backwards so she could see him. “She had _roses._ And _candlelight_. It was so _romantic,_ ” she teased, fluttering her lashes.

 

Dipper groaned, fighting back a wave of faint nausea and irritation. “I don't know why I tell you anything...” he muttered, even as part of him knew exactly why. Louder, he said, “It was a week ago, can we just drop it already?”

 

Mabel pretended to think for a minute before chirping, “Nope!” She grinned brightly as Dipper groaned.

 

“I'll just be happy if it never happens again,” Dipper muttered. Mabel laughed again, patting her brother's shoulder sympathetically.

 

 

At least whoever was summoning him this time had the decency to wait until after the kids were in bed. Triplets at bedtime needed all hands on deck, especially when they didn't particularly want to go to bed.

 

Not that his summoner would know that, but hey, call him five minutes earlier and he'd have been ready to screw them over as quickly as possible just so he could get out of there and back to the kids.

 

He took a deep breath as he formed inside the smoke, ready to boom out his usual entrance, and froze as he smelled roses.

 

A glance down at his feet found the scent was coming from a star made of roses instead of chalk inside the summoning circle.

 

Wait...not just a summoning circle, a _binding_ circle too. One that he could break pretty easily, but it would take a half a minute at the very least. It felt, vaguely, as if the intention was to keep him from being called away from this summon rather than to force him to stay, but any binding circle was bad news.

 

Heart sinking, he slowly raised his head to look around, finding himself in the same bedroom as a week ago.

 

His summoner reclined on her bed, back in the gold nightgown and robe, propped up on one hand. There was a bowl-shaped incense burner on the nightstand by her bed filled with something dried and dully green, and she leaned over to touch a match to it, setting it to smoking.

 

“Hello again, my Lord,” she said. “Our rendezvous was cut tragically short the last time. I'm hoping my summoning has pleased you more this time, and that the second circle will help you to stay.”

 

Oh, _poop_. “Look, I don't know why you're trying this, but...is that Yggdrasil herb you're burning?”

 

She smiled, and oh noooo now she was trying for seductive or smoldering or something but it wasn't right make it _stooop no do not want._

 

“The book said you liked it,” she said, and the emphasis she put on 'liked' made Dipper's stomach turn with nerves and dread. “And it made you...excited.”

 

Okay really not okay with all of this what the hell was she even thinking? Dipper fumbled for words, silently grabbing the weak points in the binding circle and beginning to unravel it so he could get the heck out of Dodge. “So you were going to try and drug me? And then...” he faltered, suddenly unable to say the words, to put a name to what she'd tried to do and didn't even seem to realize the full impact of.

 

He had to force the next words out over the little voice in his head that demanded he make her p͜a̕y͏ for what she'd tried to do, try and make her understand, “Do you _even_ have any idea how horrible that is? What you were...and going after a demon on top of that?”

 

It was getting hard to talk, since talking required air, and breathing meant taking in the smoke that was getting thicker by the minute, and he could feel the vague tingling in his hands and feet that meant it was starting to effect him.

 

Not good. Not good at all. He had to get out of here, before it really got to him! Mabel had teased him about it often enough for him to know just what he was like once he was high, and he was _not_ going to let this...this kid take advantage of him while he was out of it!

 

 

While Alcor was talking, Beryl slid off the bed and walked silently to stand in front of him, separated only by the very edge of the circle, clasping her hands behind her back and looking at him with starry eyes.

 

She wanted to press against him again, see how far he would let her go this time, but she was waiting for the Yggdrasil to (hopefully) lower his barriers a little, at the least. She just hoped that this time maybe, just maybe, she might actually get a bit more than just a brief taste.

 

He really didn't seem happy about the Yggdrasil, though. A bit panicked, actually. Well, maybe that meant it _was_ working, and he was worried over it.

 

His eyes had gone strange, the gold so wide it looked close to taking over his whole eye, and she stepped closer, both to see his eyes closer and to test how close he'd let her come.

 

Alcor actually looked a bit high, curling around himself a little, and she was really starting to wonder if the Yggdrasil was such a good idea after all. Suddenly feeling bold, Beryl reached across the circle and brushed her hand over the demon's cheek, a bit of his hair slipping across her fingers.

 

It was even softer than it looked, a feat she hadn't thought possible. He jerked away at her touch, looking up at her with wide, shocked eyes.

 

His mouth worked for a moment as she leaned closer. “Why do you keep doing this? This is the most outrageous...you have to stop! And the Yggdrasil, I don't even...”

 

He kept lecturing, but it was rambling and unfocused, and she stopped listening to the words, letting the sound of his voice wash over her instead. More sure of herself, Beryl stepped inside the circle to cup his face.

 

His skin was warm under her hands, his lecture cut off at her touch. Remembering how he'd disappeared out from under her hands last time when she'd taken things slow, she lunged forward, pressing her mouth to his and burying her hands in his hair the way she'd dreamed of since that first failed summon.

 

He jerked as if to pull away, though her hands in his hair kept him close. She presses closer, harder, determined to have at least this taste of him.

 

 

The Yggdrasil made the room spin oddly, made Dipper's head swim, and he knew he'd been speaking though he couldn't say what he'd been saying.

 

But now there was someone touching him, and he stared at them but he didn't know them, they didn't smell right, they weren't _his_ , but they were touching him like he was theirs, but that couldn't be right.

 

And now there were lips on his and hands in his hair and no no _no_ only family was allowed to touch him, touch his hair but when he tried to jerk away they just held tighter and he was _not_ taking this...this person home with him _no_.

 

Somehow, despite his hands feeling like he was wearing heavy mitts over them, he managed to get a hold on the hands in his hair and pull them away, and it felt vaguely like he lost some hair to those grasping fingers but they were off him and that was all that mattered. As soon as he was clear he fled, blipping out of there and landing with a soft 'oof' on the carpet in the Shack's living room.

 

 

Henry jumped when Dipper suddenly appeared in the living room and dropped to the floor on all fours.

 

Dipper was shaking his head, and his eyes were blown huge when he looked up at Henry, who sighed. Dipnip again.

 

Even with his experience of a doped up Dipper, he wasn't expecting Dipper to launch himself into his lap, whining and burying his face in Henry's stomach and curling up as tightly as he could around Henry.

 

He sounded like a kitten, really, a distressed one at that, so Henry hesitantly started stroking Dipper's hair. Dipper froze at the first touch before curling closer to Henry, still making that whining noise interlaced with little mews that sounded like he was trying to tell Henry something until the stroking got to him, slowly going limp across Henry's lap. (Mabel had given Henry that little hint before, about playing with Dipper's hair to knock him out. He was trying not to abuse it, but when Dipper sounded like that...)

 

Dipper could tell him everything once he was back to normal. For now, Henry didn't know why Dipper needed comforted, but he did, so it looked like he was going to be staying on the couch petting his brother like a cat for awhile.

 

Good thing he went to the bathroom before he sat down this time.


	21. A Chance Encounter Part 2: Alternate Version

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I came up with a different way things could go down in A Chance Encounter Part 2, so I've edited this version for that one. Now with 95% more dippy-cat and 100% less unwanted kissing.

  


Back in her room, Beryl stared in disbelief at the empty circle and the distinct lack of demon, who’d been solid in her arms just seconds ago. No, no, no! Why’d he leave?

Was it her? Did she…?

No, something went wrong, it had to be that! She’s quoted _Ravished by the Demon King_ , she’d used the right circle, done the right incantation…she must have needed a better sacrifice, so he could stay with her longer. Or he’d had a more powerful summons drag him away. That had to be it.

Or…maybe he was used to summoners trying to seduce him. She’d have to step up her game.

Besides, if he’s wanted her to stop, well…he was a demon. He could have let her know she was unwanted easily enough!

She rubbed her arms, biting her lip as she remembered the feel of him under her hands, so solid and warm, and the feel of his mouth on hers, brief as it had been.

No, she wasn’t going to give up until she got a good, proper taste of all of him.

* * *

Mabel had found out what happened, of course. Mabel always found out, somehow. (Then again, it had taken a while to recover from the whole thing and try to forget it. There was no such thing as demonic brain bleach, and drinking wouldn’t get rid of the memory for Dipper. At least she waited until he recovered before teasing him about it and making light of the whole thing.)

“It _wasn’t funny_ , Mabel,” Dipper repeated again, well aware that it was a chorus he had to repeat far too often for a demon.

“But _Dipper_ ,” she laughed, skipping ahead of him to turn and walk backwards so she could see him. “She had _roses._ And _candlelight_. It was so _romantic,_ ” she teased, fluttering her lashes.

Dipper groaned, fighting back a wave of faint nausea and irritation. “I don’t know why I tell you anything…” he muttered, even as part of him knew exactly why. Louder, he said, “It was a week ago, can we just drop it already?”

Mabel pretended to think for a minute before chirping, “Nope!” She grinned brightly as Dipper groaned.

“I’ll just be happy if it never happens again,” Dipper muttered. Mabel laughed again, patting her brother’s shoulder sympathetically.

* * *

At least whoever was summoning him this time had the decency to wait until after the kids were in bed. Triplets at bedtime needed all hands on deck, especially when they didn’t particularly want to go to bed.

Not that his summoner would know that, but hey, call him five minutes earlier and he’d have been ready to screw them over as quickly as possible just so he could get out of there and back to the kids.

He took a deep breath as he formed inside the smoke, ready to boom out his usual entrance, and froze as he smelled roses.

A glance down at his feet found the scent was coming from a star made of roses instead of chalk inside the summoning circle.

Wait…not just a summoning circle, a _binding_ circle too. One that he could break pretty easily, but it would take a half a minute at the very least. It felt, vaguely, as if the intention was to keep him from being called away from this summon rather than to force him to stay, but any binding circle was bad news.

Heart sinking, he slowly raised his head to look around, finding himself in the same bedroom as a week ago.

His summoner reclined on her bed, back in the gold nightgown and robe, propped up on one hand. There was a bowl schaped incense burner on the nightstand by her bed filled with something dried and dully green, and she leaned over to touch a match to it, setting it to smoking.

“Hello again, my Lord,” she said. “Our rendezvous was cut tragically short the last time. I’m hoping my summoning has pleased you more this time, and that the second circle will help you to stay.”

Oh, _poop_. “Look, I don’t know why you’re trying this, but…is that Yggdrasil herb you’re burning?”

She smiled, and oh noooo now she was trying for seductive or smoldering or something but it wasn’t right make it _stooop no do not want._

“The book said you liked it,” she said, and the emphasis she put on ‘liked’ made Dipper’s stomach turn with nerves and dread. “And it made you…excited.”

Okay really not okay with all of this what the hell was she even thinking? Dipper fumbled for words, silently grabbing the weak points in the binding circle and beginning to unravel it so he could get the heck out of Dodge. “So you were going to try and drug me? And then…” he faltered, suddenly unable to say the words, to put a name to what she’d tried to do and didn’t even seem to realize the full impact of.

He had to force the next words out over the little voice in his head that demanded he make her p͜a̕y͏ for what she’d tried to do, try and make her understand, “Do you _even_ have any idea how horrible that is? What you were…and going after a demon on top of that?”

It was getting hard to talk, since talking required air, and breathing meant taking in the smoke that was getting thicker by the minute, and he could feel the vague tingling in his hands and feet that meant it was starting to effect him.

Not good. Not good at all. He had to get out of here, before it really got to him! Mabel had teased him about it often enough for him to know just what he was like once he was high, and he was _not_ going to let this…this kid take advantage of him while he was out of it!

* * *

            While Alcor was talking, Beryl slid off the bed and walked silently to stand in front of him, separated only by the very edge of the circle, clasping her hands behind her back and looking at him with starry eyes.

She wanted to press against him again, see how far he would let her go this time, but she was waiting for the Yggdrasil to (hopefully) lower his barriers a little, at the least. She just hoped that this time maybe, just maybe, she might actually get a bit more than just a brief taste.

He really didn’t seem happy about the Yggdrasil, though. A bit panicked, actually. Well, maybe that meant it _was_ working, and he was worried over it.

His eyes had gone strange, the gold so wide it looked close to taking over his whole eye, and she stepped closer, both to see his eyes closer and to test how close he’d let her come.

Alcor actually looked a bit high, curling around himself a little, and she was really starting to wonder if the Yggdrasil was such a good idea after all. Suddenly feeling bold, Beryl reached across the circle and brushed her hand over the demon’s cheek, a bit of his hair slipping across her fingers.

It was even softer than it looked, a feat she hadn’t thought possible. He jerked away at her touch, looking up at her with wide, shocked eyes.

His mouth worked for a moment as she leaned closer. “Why do you keep doing this? This is the most outrageous…you have to stop! And the Yggdrasil, I don’t even…”

He kept lecturing, but it was rambling and unfocused, and she stopped listening to the words, letting the sound of his voice wash over her instead. More sure of herself, Beryl stepped inside the circle to cup his face, running her fingers over his lips, and his lecturing sputtered to a stop.

She smiled at him invitingly, stepping back out of the circle and towards the bed. Gesturing, she coaxed him to follow, sitting on the edge and patting it invitingly. “Come, the bed is soft, and I long for you.”

Dipper stared at her blankly, ears twitching as he gaped, the Yggdrasil making it hard to understand her. But the bed _did_ look really, really soft…

* * *

Beryl gasped with joy when Alcor jumped onto her bed, but it turned to confusion when, instead of falling on her as she expected, he curled into a ball at the foot of it, kneading at the covers like a giant cat.

Maybe the book was wrong about the Yggdrasil…? Cautiously she reached out to touch, brushing her hand over his hair.

He opened one eye, and she bent closer, unsure what she was going to do now, her hand still tangled in his hair.

Apparently, he didn’t appreciate that. She leaped away with a yelp as he hissed, a sudden, catlike noise no human throat could make. Missing her landing, she fell to the floor with a thump.

Alcor looked at her over the side of the bed, head cocked to the side as he considered her. She reached for him again, unsure if she was trying to calm him or what she was thinking, and his eyes narrowed.

Giving another little hiss and an irritated huff, he disappeared without so much as a puff of smoke, and she beat a fist against the floor.

The book lied, damn it!

* * *

Henry jumped when Dipper suddenly appeared in the living room and dropped to the floor on all fours.

Dipper was shaking his head, and his eyes were blown huge when he looked up at Henry, who sighed. Dipnip again.

Even with his experience of a doped up Dipper, he wasn’t expecting Dipper to launch himself into his lap, whining and burying his face in Henry’s stomach and curling up as tightly as he could around Henry.

He sounded like a kitten, really, a distressed one at that, so Henry hesitantly started stroking Dipper’s hair. Dipper froze at the first touch before curling closer to Henry, still making that whining noise interlaced with little mews that sounded like he was trying to tell Henry something until the stroking got to him, slowly going limp across Henry’s lap. (Mabel had given Henry that little hint before, about playing with Dipper’s hair to knock him out. He was trying not to abuse it, but when Dipper sounded like that…)

Dipper could tell him everything once he was back to normal. For now, Henry didn’t know why Dipper needed comforted, but he did, so it looked like he was going to be staying on the couch petting his brother like a cat for awhile.

Good thing he went to the bathroom before he sat down this time.


	22. Have I Told You Lately

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A combination of the prompt jar and [this post/prompt](http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/110537462770/henry-doesnt-ask-at-first-about-dippers) on the transcendence AU blog.
> 
> Henry overhears people talking about Dipper and isn't sure what to think.

If there was one thing people remembered about Henry Pines (nee Corduroy, and he never thought he'd be so happy to leave that name behind as he was) was just how hard it was to get him to lose his temper.

So anyone who could have seen him right now, clutching the bar of his shopping cart so hard his knuckles were turning white, seething silently, might have had trouble recognizing him.

Part of him was trying to be reasonable about this. The people who'd gotten him so angry had no idea they were saying anything wrong, and he could see where they were coming from. Really, he could.

But...they were talking about Dipper. Mabel's beloved twin brother, his brother in law, the goober that was more family to him that the people he shared blood with.

“...utterly terrifying! What can they be thinking? And it's around children, all the time!”

“Apparently it was around before the Transcendence, that's why so many people around here trust it.”

“I just don't know if I can,” the first voice said, and it sounded like they were walking away. “I mean, it seems nice enough now, but it's still a demon, you know? Who knows what could make it turn on us! We're looking into moving...”

Dipper wasn't an 'it', dammit! Henry took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. 

 

He did the rest of the shopping on autopilot, and was vaguely surprised to find he'd bought extra candy, two bags of Dipper's favorites.

Well, fine then. Dipper didn't have to know why Henry felt like indulging him this once.

 

His mind was still turning and prodding at the conversation as he drove home, trying to figure out just why it bothered him so much. Gravity Falls was the twins' home, their safe space, where they could be themselves, so maybe that was it?

It finally came to him as he parked the truck, and he sat there, staring into the woods surrounding the Library silently.

He'd never known Dipper as a human, but he still couldn't think of him as a demon. He'd know it was true, that Dipper was technically dead and a demon, but he'd always been more Mabel's brother than a terrifying demon.

Sure Henry had done research, and Dipper had done some pretty awful things as Alcor, but...he was still Dipper. He was the goober who snitched candy from the library jack-o-lantern, got himself stuck halfway through walls, sang a ridiculously goofy song about lambs to the kids, more than the demon who did those horrible things. They could trust him, even when he didn't trust himself.

Those people had no right to judge him when they'd never so much as met him, not here, not in this town that was supposed to be their refuge.

Henry unloaded the truck in silent turmoil, thoughts still running about his head in a confused scramble, trying to fit Dipper-his-brother with the Dipper the people in the grocery store were afraid of turning on them.

 

Dipper blipped into the kitchen as Henry brought in the last bags, immediately looking into the once holding the candy. “Ooo, candy? Whoa, you bought a lot this time. You planning something?”

Henry stopped, just looking at Dipper, taking in every detail of his appearance, from how similar to Mabel he looked to how demonic he looked. From soft brown hair to gold on black eyes, lopsided grin to shark teeth, everything he'd just come to think of as 'Dipper'.

Dipper paused in rummaging through the bag of candy, looking at Henry with concern as he kept staring. “Um...is everything okay...?”

It took Henry two strides to cross the kitchen. Dipper meeped in surprise as Henry suddenly pulled him into his arms, hugging him close. Dipper's arms hesitantly came up around Henry to return the hug as the taller man tucked the demon's head under his chin and stroked his hair, feeling Dipper relax into the hug after the first startled stiffness.

Another set of arms snuck around them, and Henry cracked open an eye to find Mabel grinning at him, pressed against Dipper's back. She gave them a little shove to start them swaying, and Henry felt Dipper laughing against his chest.

It didn't matter what they said. He knew the truth, and so did Mabel, and Stan, and the kids, and the rest of their strange, adopted family. And right now Dipper was warm and solid in his arms, happy if a bit confused, and he and Mabel were laughing, and nothing else mattered.


	23. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt jar + Valentines = ficlet.

Most of Dipper’s ‘info dumps’, as Henry had aptly named them, were,in a word, traumatizing. More often then not they ended with Dipper staring at the wall or into space as the walls dripped with slime or, occasionally, blood. Sometimes they ended with him retreating into the Mindscape for days at a time, or curling around family and refusing to let go for hours on end, shivering and gripping them so tightly it bruised.

But then, once in a while, the universe decided to be kind, and the info dump was more of a gentle trickle, a sudden understanding, information that was joyful or gentle.

And standing outside the Game of Thorns two days before Valentine’s, the information that the universe decided to grant Dipper Pines was welcome indeed.

On Valentine’s morning, there was a pink carnation on Henry’s plate, and on Mabel’s, and Stan’s. There was a pair on the stoop of Soos and Melody’s house, one waiting for Candy and one for Grenda, on Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland’s desks, outside Lazy Susan’s house, waiting on the table in Pacifica’s apartment, tucked into the straps of Wendy’s backpack, and outside a dozen other homes waiting for the inhabitants to wake and find their gifts.

 

(For in the language of flowers, a pink carnation means “I will never forget you.”)

 

(Centuries later, they said Alcor dwelt in the woods outside Gravity Falls. His home is in a cabin surrounded by pine trees and pink carnations, and they fill Gravity Falls. They say the ones he has planted each stand for someone or something important to him that he refuses to forget.)


	24. Handy to Have Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked for something to do with the Woodsman. Have something inspired by a few silly headcanons.

Henry thought he was coping fairly well with the whole I-now-have-demonically-induced-powers thing. There were nightmares, sure, but thankfully his family took the new antlers in stride the way they did most things.

He tried not to think about the hands hanging from the antlers, not always visible even when the antlers were but there. 

He managed to forget about them at times, until he'd catch their shadow and feel the dark chill of its reminder of just what he'd done. He didn't regret what he'd done, just that he'd had to do it, that his family had been in danger and he'd had to take steps.

(When the nightmares came he'd look in at a sleeping Willow, at Dipper curled up on the couch or the foot of the bed or sprawled in midair, and know he'd do it again in a heartbeat if he had to.) 

Then the antlers started being somewhat tangible without Dipper's interference, not completely and not constantly, but often enough that waking with various underthings hanging from his head (or from a line stretched between his head and his sleeping brother's foot, which his wife had yet to stop finding utterly hilarious) stopped fazing Henry. 

The hands continued to hang, inert and lifeless, sporadically appearing, and it seemed that was how they would stay.

Until the day Dipper and Mabel were antagonizing each other (because no matter how much they loved each other, depended on each other, they were still siblings, and they still had those moments) and he suddenly had the strongest urge to facepalm but couldn't, since his hands were full of books.

And found a hand covering his face anyway.

Everyone watching, from the twins, to Stan (who had been cheering them on indiscriminately), to the triplets stopped what they were doing to stand in shocked silence to stare, fear permeating the air as they eyed the hand covering Henry's face, watching to see what else it would do.

But as soon as Henry's desire to facepalm died away the hand dropped away from his face to dangle at the end of its string, as lifeless and incorporeal as before.

 

Two days later Dipper raised his hand for a high five as he passed the sofa where Henry was sprawled. Henry didn't see him, engrossed in his book as he was, but one of the hands on his antlers obligingly raised itself and smacked palms with Dipper.

Henry looked up at the sound and both spent a few awkward seconds staring at each other before uncomfortably shrugging and moving on.

 

At first he had thought it had been a strange passing thing, maybe a surge of magic in the air, but as time passed and the hands grew more...helpful, for lack of a better word, Henry did the same as he did with everything else that had come into his life since he'd accepted the Pines twins as his new family: had a brief panic attack in private and then did the best to make the best out of the situation...or at least be as unfazed as possible when the hands slowly started doing more and more. 

If nothing else, his family's faces when he was unfazed by their antics made it all worth it.

Plus, the hands had started doing chores, and he'd never really cared for doing the dishes or dusting anyway.


	25. Sledding With Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt jar said 'Sledding', and somehow I managed to finish something for a prompt day.

Sometimes Henry forgot that Mabel and Dipper grew up in California and hadn't seen a proper snowfall until they were sixteen and permanently living in Gravity Falls.

This was not one of those times.

 

The snow had started falling last night, a light dusting that Mabel laughingly claimed as a reason he had to stay the night (complete with a teasing, every so slightly off key rendition of 'Baby, It's Cold Outside').

He was awoken the next morning by Mabel's full weight landing on him as she leapt onto the bed, cheering and laughing and driving all the air out of his lungs in one great, gasping rush. 

“Henry it snowed more it snowed there's mountains of it get up get up get up!” she chanted, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. 

For a second he thought she'd gotten him harder than he'd originally thought since he could've sworn he heard Dipper laughing, until Mabel stopped shaking him and he could see Dipper hovering over their bed, bobbing up and down in midair and just as excited as his twin, physical somehow and beaming.

(Henry would have though Dipper could have seen snow before, since by his own admission he was being summoned all over the world, but he guessed this was different. Well...this wasn't work, was it? Dipper wouldn't get to really see that snow, Henry realized a few seconds later. He'd be inside, in a dark basement or...stopping that train of thought now, thank you.)

It was all the time he had for realizations before Mabel was hauling on his hand, bodily pulling her fiancee out of bed, still bouncing and excited.

 

Less than half an hour later Henry found himself being pelted with snowballs, Mabel racing around the yard and diving into the snowbanks between flinging them at her tolerant moose (who was still surprised and grateful for the sweater Mabel had surprised him with, that she'd made special for him, even if he wouldn't personally have knitted one to say Reading is Sexy).

Dipper was entertaining himself by divebombing the same snowbanks, sending showers of snow high into the air, and the sweater and scarf Mabel had shoved over his head was already coated in a thick layer of white. 

Suddenly hit with an idea, Henry ducked back into the house.

 

Mabel's squeal when she saw the sled made everyone within hearing distance wince, but it was worth it as she grabbed Henry's hand and darted off towards the highest hill she knew of.

Henry expected them to head towards town, where he'd seen the kids sledding before, but Mabel went straight to the woods instead.

Fifteen minutes of walking later and Henry understood why the kids sledded in town instead of daring Mabel's chosen spot as he looked down the slope of the highest, steepest hill he'd ever seen.

“It'll be fine,” Mabel reassured him from her seat on the sled in front of him, leaning back against his chest, Dipper leaning over his back with clawed hands on his shoulders. “Dipper'll catch us if anything goes wrong.”

“Wait, what? Mabel, I don't...” Dipper's protest was cut short when Mabel shoved off, yelling “For Aoshima!” at the top of her lungs.

Henry couldn't make a single noise, the scream trapped by the knot in his throat even as the wind stole his breath. 

The twins were making enough noise to make up for his silence anyway.

Then Dipper's claws were tight on his shoulders just before the sled hit a bump, sailing into the air.

Blue fire wrapped around the sled and its riders, something Henry wasn't sure he'd ever get used to, keeping them aloft when they should have fallen, down into the sharp rocks and sullen stream hidden at the bottom of the hill.

They landed in a snowbank on the other side of the stream with a solid whomp, snow fountaining up around them.

Henry flailed and rolled out of the snow, hair sticking to his face as his head whipped around, looking for his fiancee and brother.

And Mabel erupted out of the snow almost directly under his face, arms in the air and screaming. “YEEEEE-HAAAAW!”

Dipper sat up in the snow a few feet away, his normal weightlessness catapulting him further than the humans. His tongue was sticking out of his mouth the tiniest bit and Henry thought he looked more like a cat than ever as he shook his head free of snow.

He grinned at Henry, too-sharp teeth and too-wide smile not distracting from the childlike joy. “Again?”

“No! No, not again,” Henry said immediately, waving his hands for emphasis as the twins laughed.

 

(They did it again.)

 

Later, when they were back at the Library, “burrito-ed” (in Mabel's words) in handmade sweaters and several layers of blanket with cocoa at hand, Henry finally realized what had bothered him about those many landings and asked Dipper just why he landed in the snow too when he could float.

Dipper shrugged. “The landing's half the fun.”

And once again Henry had to wonder just what he was marrying into, that faceplanting into snow was considered half the fun. Still, considering the ship he was jumping for this one...yeah. He'd take their form of madness over what he was leaving any day, even if it did involve copious amounts of snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ship jumping – when a friend of mine married, he commented that usually a marriage unites two families, but not this time. He was jumping ship and not looking back. And...can anyone blame Henry for doing the same?


	26. Summonings of the Fluffy Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a 1/750 chance that when you try to summon Alcor you'll get Lepus instead. And once Lepus is there he WON'T LEAVE. There's no way to get him out. So you've got an immortal rabbit haunting the place until he gets summoned accidentally to another location.  
> (Lepus is the rabbit given the The Cult of Dippingsauce as a mascot who is immortal thanks to all the other cults that kidnap the rabbit and give it years off their lives in hopes of pleasing Alcor.)

Tedd stared in disbelief at the rabbit sitting calmly in the middle of his summoning circle.

Damn it, the summon was supposed to call Alcor, dream demon and unholy offspring of nightmares, not a tiny brown rabbit, one that was currently sniffing the chalk circle with an air of patient, unruffled and absolute calm.

He glared at the rabbit, crossing his arms and tapping a foot. “How the hell am I supposed to bargain with _you_?” he asked in disgust. “Where'd you even come from?” Crouching, he took a closer look at it. “You aren't Alcor, right? Like, in disguise to mess with me? I heard he pulls stuff like that...”

The rabbit sat on its hind legs and sniffed the air before scratching behind one ear vigorously. That taken care of, it settled back on all fours and loped out of the circle, nose working double time as it explored.

“...apparently not.”

Light from a candle caught something around the rabbit's neck that flashed with the sheen of metal, and Tedd leaned closer and realized the rabbit was wearing a harness, one that nearly blended into the rabbit's fur so that he hadn't noticed it in the dim light.

Grumbling, he went closer and knelt by the rabbit, eventually managing to get his hand on the tag hanging from the collar part of the harness while trying not to touch it too much. It did appear in the summoning circle, obviously it wasn't some normal rabbit.

' _Hi there!'_ the tag read. _'My name is Lepus. If you're reading this, then you're the lucky 1 out of 750 summoners to summon me! :D I'm the mascot of the Cult of Alcor (Mizar branch) and pet of Alcor the Dreambender. So be sure you take good care of me, 'cuz I'll be hanging around for awhile!'_

Tedd swallowed hard, flipping the tag over to see the mark of Alcor on the back of it, enameled in black. Not a joke then...this rabbit did belong to the Dreambender, and for some reason, it showed up in its master's place.

Tedd groaned and buried his face in his hands as the rabbit nuzzled at his leg curiously before continuing to sniff around the room.

How the hell was this his life?

 

Three weeks later, the rabbit was still living in Tedd's apartment.

He'd have shipped the thing off to a shelter or dropped it outside within the first week if it weren't for that harness. Nothing and no one put the mark of Alcor on something lightly, and hurting or abandoning the rabbit wasn't a good idea if he wanted to keep living and keep all his limbs attached and sanity intact.

It wasn't easy. The damned thing had already chewed through three different cords and made a mess of his apartment, which he hadn't thought possible. He'd have caged it but the research he'd done online (because he didn't want a rabbit but he wasn't getting caught not taking proper care of a demon's pet) said rabbits couldn't stay caged all the time.

He'd thought it was odd that a demon would have a _rabbit_ , of all things, for a pet, but at this point he was starting to think he understood why – and question why anyone would want to keep one anyway. At least dogs were useful, and sometimes cats could be if you had pests, but the rabbit didn't seem to be good for anything but driving him mad.

That might have partially been the stress of being sure a demon's familiar was healthy and the surety he'd be dead or worse if it wasn't but still. He thought all rabbits did was sit and wiggle their noses, not go tearing around rooms like some kind of speed maniac!

He was in the kitchen, grudgingly putting together some food for the rabbit (it might have had a name but he was still angry enough about the thing showing up that it got called 'the rabbit' instead) when there was a 'pop' from the living room, followed by a soft, masculine voice.

Panicking, Tedd grabbed the knife he'd been using on the vegetables and crept out of the kitchen, only to drop the knife in shock with a clatter when he got a view of his living room.

Alcor the Dreambender floated in Tedd's living room, the rabbit running laps around his legs and honking before the demon knelt down and scooped it up in his arms, where it promptly settled down (and looked very pleased to be there) and started making a purring noise while Alcor scratched it gently behind the ears and talked softly to it.

It was a good thing Tedd had looked up rabbit behavior or he'd be even more freaked than he was. As it was, well, he didn't think he'd ever seen anything so happy to see a demon – or so happy to be held by one. Freaking weird rabbit.

“...think you enjoy showing up at my summonses and scaring people,” Alcor was saying softly, lifting his head to pin Tedd with gold on black eyes. He grinned, baring a mouth full of sharp, jagged teeth, and Tedd hoped he wouldn't pass out but Alcor was here in his apartment with no summoning or circles or bindings and Tedd was gonna _die_!

“Th̸a̕nks͠ f͡or ͞watćhįng ̡Le͢p̷us͘,̸ ” Alcor said. “H̢e ҉keep̡s r͘un͘ni̸n̵g̛ ͞o̢f̧f.͞ ̛I ҉t͟h̨ink̶ h́e l̡i̵k͘es ͝aĺl ̷th̡e fưss.”

“N...not a problem,” Tedd managed to stammer out. The rabbit booped its head against Alcor's chin, apparently upset that the scratching had stopped, and Alcor looked down at it with fond eyes and chuckled.

“Śpoi̡l͠e̡d̡ b͡ra̕t̕...͘ ” he murmured, and if Tedd hadn't been about ready to pass out he might have questioned that a demon could be fond of anything, including the demonic hellbeast of a rabbit he was holding. “Why͠ ͜ _we̸ŗé_ y҉ou ͜trỳing ͟to ͠summ̨ơn̢ ͟m̀e͘? ”

“I...I...um...” Tedd swallowed and made himself remember why he'd been trying to summon Alcor that night. “I...well, I have horrible sleep patterns. Takes me hours to fall asleep unless I'm so tired I pass out. And, well, I was desperate enough to figure a dream demon might be able to fix that.”

Alcor watched him steadily as he spoke, pressing a kiss to the rabbit's head almost absently as Tedd talked. It was...kinda cute, if one ignored the whole demon-who-could-kill-him-with-a-thought thing. Alcor's eyes went distant for a second when Tedd finished before he shrugged.

“Ah̸.͢ ̶I͝ ͠see,” he said. He tossed something to Tedd, who caught it automatically – a small purplish stone. “P̶ut̴ ̸t̵hat̶ ͞ųn̸der ͡yo̸u̷r p͏il̡l҉ow̢ ͜to̵ ̧help yóù ̷sleęp̨.”

“And...the price?” Tedd asked unwillingly. Alcor smirked, just a little.

“You ̴to̕ok̨ ͠g͡oo̸d͟ ̴e̢n̕óugh͝ caŗe͝ o͢f͝ ͟L̷epùs t͘hęs̵e͢ p̛ás͡t͝ ͝f̛e͏w w̷ee̸k͏ś ̴to͏ ͜call ͜it͞ ̧ev̨en,” he replied. He picked up one of Lepus' paws and waved it at Tedd, grinning. “Sa̡y ͏go̴odb̶ye,͠ ͞L͢epus̨,͠ ̕you're͢ gói̸ng ba̧c̡k hóme w̕here̕ ̶yǫu ͏b̀e̵lon͡g͢.̸ ”

Bemused, Tedd waved back. Seconds later Alcor and Lepus were gone, with nothing to show they'd ever been there – save the damage the rabbit had wrought over the last few weeks and all the food Tedd had bought to feed it.

But really...what the hell was all that? A rabbit? _Why the hell would a demon have a rabbit for a pet seriously this was worse than the sheep they claimed Alcor liked what even was this how what._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The circling and honking is supposed to be something rabbits do when they're very happy, same with teeth grinding/'purring'. Also, apparently tearing around the house is normal enough behavior to be called the 'Bunny 500'. The more you know, I guess.


	27. A Chance Encounter Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked why guys never seem to want a piece of that demon and were told they definetly want a piece of dat demon. ;)

In the dark storage unit, lit only by the light of a battery powered lantern and a ring of unscented candles, Daniel checked and rechecked his circle.

 

His family may have owned the complex of storage units, but he still had to be careful not to be found. They wouldn't exactly approve of his current occupation, after all.

 

Stupid dares, stupid frat, stupid hormones...stupid...stupid _everything_.

 

Let _one_ guy find out he was bi, and that he thought the description of Alcor the Dreambender sounded really attractive, and the slight – _very slight, thank you!_ – obsession he had with the demon, and suddenly they were egging him on to summon Alcor and proposition him.

 

Okay, so it was really, really, tempting, but it was also probably a really bad idea.

 

But on the other hand...okay maybe Alcor would be flattered? And maybe Daniel would actually get what he wanted from the demon? Or at least not ripped to pieces that would be nice please and thank you.

 

Though...considering he was summoning a demon...if he did agree...he'd probably prefer to be the ravisher rather than letting Daniel ravish him (which honestly was more along the lines of Daniel's fantasy) but hey, either way was good.

 

Silently, he cursed the Twin Souls fanfiction his sister had passed on to him. The 'uke' Alcor fics were so...unrealistic but...really hot. And he really hoped there was some kernel of truth to them because hot damn.

 

A demon, willing and blushing and begging for it? One that looked like the books hinted Alcor could?

 

Daniel was willing to risk a little bodily harm for that. Okay, maybe more than a little, but still.

 

One last check, and Daniel read off the incantation he'd painstakingly checked against three different sources and looked up pronunciation for to try and summon Alcor.

 

An impossible wind kicked up inside the unit, the candle flames flaring tall and blue against the laws of physics, defying the wind that nearly ripped the notes from Daniel's hands. Then they all went out as one, and so did his lantern, plunging the unit into darkness.

 

Two gold eyes blinked open, gleaming in the darkness over a Cheshire cat grin, and the candles slowly came back to life, growing steadily until they illuminated the floating figure of Alcor the Dreambender.

 

Daniel bit back an appreciative whistle through sheer force of will. He'd assumed the books had either glossed over the more demonic aspects of Alcor's appearance to make him seem more appealing (the romance novels in particular had been enthusiastic in their descriptions) or emphasized them for deterrence (the demonology textbooks, mostly) but neither did the reality justice to Daniel's mind.

 

Part of Daniel wondered if Alcor knew just how well the suit fitted him, how damn good it made him look, the way the wings at his hips drew the eye to the slender waist...then again, he was a demon, it had to be on purpose. Right?

 

But damn, he was expecting tentacles or horns or scales, not a slim figure in a well cut suit, or soft looking hair he wanted to bury his hands in, or the sudden urge to bite those pointed ears...

 

There was a soft sound, and Daniel started as he realized Alcor had cleared his throat, obviously waiting for him to say something.

 

He sputtered, forgetting the few bits he'd managed to cobble together to say if his summon actually worked, and Alcor crossed his arms, looking vaguely amused, a touch irritated – and a more than a bit impatient.

 

Daniel licked suddenly dry lips, trying to jump start his brain back into working. “I...um...” he cleared his own throat, almost wishing he had a proper deal to ask Alcor for, suddenly sure he was going to get himself killed. Or that he'd prepared better. Seriously, he wanted to seduce a demon and he was in jeans and a t-shirt, standing in a bare storage unit! Hardly seductive! What was he supposed to do if Alcor said yes, go for it on the concrete floor? Why didn't he think this _through_?

 

...then again, how did one seduce a demon? Somehow he doubted the 'regular' methods worked, unless it was for novelty or charm, even though this was Alcor after all, he was supposed to be...different, somehow, from most demons.

 

And he was looking at Daniel with an expression that clearly said 'hurry it up would you, I have places to be'.

 

“W͘͟h̕y͟ ͜d́id ́͝yo͏̸͜u͟ s̷̵̢ư̡m̸m̵͏o̢͜͞ǹ͢҉ ̴ḿ̢e̴̢?” Alcor asked, and hoo boy heavy demonic echo that probably didn't mean a happy demon.

 

“I...” flailing for inspiration, Daniel's mind suddenly grasped phrases from his favorite book, and he shamelessly cribbed from it. “I didn't believe what the books said. I wanted to see if you were as great as they say.”

 

Alcor raised a brow, apparently amused. “Do͜ y̸o̶u̡ n͝ow̕?̷ ” he asked, with barely any reverb at all. Daniel had a fleeting moment to wonder if Alcor knew what he was quoting, but surely not, right? Demons wouldn't have a reason to know fantasy novels, not even the classics.

 

“They fall utterly short of reality, o Alcor the chiefest and greatest of calamities,” Daniel said. In for a penny, in for a pound, as the saying went. Maybe he'd be flattered?

 

“You͡ ͝h͡av̷e̕ ͘ņic͜e͞ ͘ma͢n҉ǹe̵rs̕ for̵ ͜a͟ ̴t̵hie͜f...and ͞a͟ liar ,” Alcor said, smirking. Crap crap _crap_ he knew! “Why did you summon me? Certainly not to quote Tolkien at me.”

 

“Well I...that is...well...I did want to...see the reality,” Daniel said, hands waving vaguely as he tried to sound convincing, “and I guess I...um...I thought...I hear about people summoning you to be ravished...”

 

Alcor did not look happy at that admission. In fact, he looked a bit nauseated. Daniel was impressed despite himself, and there was a tiny corner of his mind taking notes. He hadn't known demons could _feel_ nausea.

 

“...so I thought...maybe...I could offer to ravish you instead? For some variety?” Daniel finally managed to offer, with a bit of hope. If Alcor looked upset about being asked to ravish someone, maybe he was just sick of it and ready to let someone turn the tables?

 

He stepped closer to the circle and let his gaze travel up and down Alcor's body to make his intentions clear, a bit more confident now when Alcor shuddered under his gaze.

 

Alcor floated backwards within the circle, keeping the distance between them constant.

 

“Yeah, I ḑon͝'t̶ thin͢k so,” the demon said, scowling and not looking a Daniel.

 

Was he...it was faint, but Daniel was sure Alcor was blushing, just a bit. Encouraged, he pressed on.

 

“Do we need to make it a deal?” he asked. “I promise to satisfy you, make you come until you can't think straight anymore. What do you say? Just lay back and let me do all the work. Sound good to you?”

 

He reached out to touch Alcor's face, giving his best seductive smirk. Alcor was staring at him open mouthed, jerking away and snapping his mouth shut with a sharp _click_ when the hand came too close.

 

“Oh h̀e̶̡ll no,” he muttered, before continuing louder. “Ņop͝e̛ n̨̛o͡p̶̛e̛ ǹ̶͟͜͢o̷̵̧͟͡p̡̛̛̕͢è̶̵, this is not happening. Alcor _out_.”

 

There was a little puff of smoke and Daniel was left, arm hanging midair, with an empty circle and a cold storage room.

 

(Later, Daniel found “ _Don't summon demons for sex, moron_ ” written in blood on his mirror. That was taking things a bit far, he thought. A simple 'no' would have sufficed.)


	28. The Day Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request from my inbox: Pacifica meeting the Woodsman.

Pacifica paused mid-step, staring up at the huge mansion up on the hill looming over Gravity Falls. 

It was strange to think she'd once lived there. Now, she hadn't even stopped by to say hello to her parents, despite visiting Gravity Falls with their grandchild.

Of course, if they'd acknowledge that Theo was, in fact, their grandchild, blood or not, instead of trying to talk Pacifica into having a 'proper' heir or trying to buy his affections when they weren't dismissing him, that might have helped. As it was, well, she had no intention of making him sit through half of what she'd endured before the twins came into her life.

As far as she was concerned, her parents weren't going to so much as set eyes on Theo unless a miracle happened and they had a true change of heart.

Besides, she and Theo had better family now than those two.

Speaking of which...she glanced ahead, to where Henry and the three fireballs he called his kids were milling around, more than making up for Theo's silence with their chatter.

Her parents had had eight years to get their act together when it came to her and Theo and their relationship with the Pines and to treat them as people instead of a legacy, something they could buy and put into a box until they needed it. She wasn't going to let them ruin this outing. She had Henry and the triplets all to herself today (which was a little awkward, since she almost always had a twin with her when she dealt with Henry, but she refused to let that stop her) and she wasn't going to waste it.

Besides, it was Henry. He accepted Dipper for what he was and loved him, she wouldn't have a problem (and shouldn't feel half this awkward, he and Mabel had been married how many years now? He'd been dealing with Dipper's demon shenanigans and 'forgetting-how-to-people' for how long? Honestly, the man was a plaid-flannel-wearing saint.).

 

Three hours later, and, well...at least it wasn't Pacifica's parents who'd ruined their family outing. Everything had been going so well up until this point, too.

But then one minute they'd been talking to a small flock of dryads by the edge of town, and the next, well, she was pretty sure the dryads had gotten away at least before the kids got dragged into the forest. And that more than one of their kidnappers had been taken down for the count, and more than that were sporting painful bruises and cuts now.

Never let it be said that a Pines or a Northwest went down easy.

They had Pacifica and Henry only because of course they'd gone after their kids, stumbling right into the rest of the kidnappers like a pair of total newbies. Though really, to be fair, Pacifica thought, she and Henry were usually the backup, the ones staying behind to clean up the mess rather than the ones out in the field. And she had as little to do with even that as possible, for Theo's sake.

At least it wasn't a cult who'd snatched them, as far as she could tell. Or at least, not the let's-summon-something-that-could-eat-us-if-we-piss-it-off-that-sounds-like-a-great-idea type of cult. She didn't have the kind of experience with these things that the Pines had, for all she was the kids' honorary aunt. Plus, she'd thought the cults and their like knew better than that try anything around Gravity Falls.

To be honest, she didn't care if they were cult or not, her mind just kept thinking about it instead of anything else because while her niblings were staying fairly calm about everything...

Her child was scared out of his mind and she was going to make whoever these people were pay for that. 

She could feel Henry against her back where he was tied, a solid and comforting presence, just as tense and ready to fight as she was, and used his size to block her struggles with the rope around their wrists. If he was married to Mabel then he probably knew more about fighting that she did, so she was going to try and get him free first.

If nothing else, he was probably more intimidating than she was, physically, and could buy some time.

The kids were on the other side of the room, and Hank was whispering something to Theo, nodding towards his dad and nodding fiercely when Theo, bless his suspicious heart, looked unconvinced.

Someone was sharpening a knife, and the grating sound was making Pacifica angrier.

“Would you quit sharpening that thing and get on with it?” someone hissed. “And get those kids out of here, this is hard enough without witnesses.”

“Don't. Touch. My. Kids,” Henry said, soft, clear, and sharp, cold enough to run a quick chill down Pacifica's back. She hadn't thought Henry could sound like that.

The speaker sniffed, cold and haughty. “They'll be better off with us and in their new families,” they said. “Better than some preter-lover like you, and this godless town. It won't be easy, but we'll soon have them deprogrammed from whatever nonsense you've taught them. They're not your concern anymore.”

More cultists grabbed the kids while they were talking, three cultists for each teenager, starting to drag them off while the kids kicked and swore, trying to fight back even as they were slowly pulled away. Theo, unable to scream like his cousins, was fighting with everything he had, tears streaming down his face silently as he kept his eyes fixed on his mom.

Pacifica thrashed against her ropes, not caring anymore what happened. Theo was not losing another family, not on her watch, not while she or his uncle had breath!

The ropes binding Pacifica to Henry grew tighter for a second, heat suddenly a raging inferno behind her even as she was untouched by it, the flames tinged with blue eerily similar to Dipper's demonfire.

Pacifica twisted as soon as the ropes fell away and her mouth dropped open, utterly undignified for a Northwest but for once she didn't care, frozen for brief, precious moments.

Henry had turned into a...a...she didn't have a word for what her friend had turned into, just that he was even taller, bone white with pits for eyes and antlers and...oh god those were hands hanging from antlers spiraling from his head, and an axe growing out of his arm...

Which he raised to bring down on the arms of the closest person who'd dared lay hands on Pacifica's son, hands that reappeared seconds later hanging from his antlers while Pacifica tried not to be sick, holding it together for the kids but only just before she rallied.

Henry turned and stared at the other adults, who were starting to back away, and stepped towards them.

He paused and looked back at Pacifica, giving a short nod towards the children, and she returned it, scrambling to her feet as he turned back to the people who'd tried to take them away from their children.

Later, she would demand explanations. Later, Theo would cling to her as his uncle explained what had happened and what he was now. 

But for now...no matter what he looked like, that was Henry. As Pacifica grabbed the person holding Theo and flung them towards Henry and his axe, she was sure of one thing above all else – it was still Henry in there, and the two of them were going to protect their kids. Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I fussed with this and kept changing it for a good week. On the one hand, it worked and I didn't want to re-write the whole thing...on the other, I wasn't sure since "kidnapped by cult/fanatics" happens to this family a _lot_.
> 
> Then again, I suppose that's what happens when you're that prominently involved in supernatural rights and cult bashing in this AU. ;)


	29. A Good (or possibly not) Influence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked for Stan and the Triplets, so here's some Stan being a good (not really) influence on them.

Stan wouldn't trade his family for anything. He'd had long enough on his own (made enough mistakes, things he could never take back, wouldn't now that they'd given him skills he could use to keep those kids, those precious, precious kids safe, but still) to understand just what a gift he'd been given, to have Mabel and Dipper still trust him now, after everything.

And not just with themselves, but with the three tiny little kids Mabel and her 'big bad moose man' had blessed them with, which was a miracle all itself, that he not only was allowed around the kids, but they lived with him, trusted him with them. Him, of all people.

All in all, he loved them all more than he'd ever thought he could love anyone.

But damn if he didn't miss the peace and quiet sometimes.

Like right now, when he had three tiny, red headed shadows, watching him with varying degrees of attention as he ran the Library.

A little part of him was glad the triplets had arrived after the Shack had been transformed into a Library, even if the transformation hadn't stopped all of his conning. (Some habits were hard to give up, too ingrained with years of them being the only thing keeping him alive to let them go.)

On the one hand, it was a lot harder to be tempted to con someone when they were browsing a Library.

On the other, well...they really were just asking for it.

Especially when they were trying to find information that would let them trap and enslave different supernatural creatures (because even for someone like Stan Pines, who had seen and done things that he wasn't sure even his kids could forgive, there were lines), doubly so when one of the books they were looking at had information about Alcor the Dreambender and they'd made a few comments digging for information about Stan's ~~grandson~~ great–nephew that had his back up and looking for an excuse to deck them. (Even if they didn't know they were talking about Stan's great-nephew and not just any demon, or if Dipper could break just about any binding by this point. Just...no.)

Even though this was gonna hurt worse, in the long run, and needed less explanation than the well-deserved left hook, it was still tempting.

Now, the big questions – what to do, and how to do it without three tiny redheads figuring out just what their G-Grunkle was doing. It would be so much easier without them around, but Stan was never looking back. It was figure out a way to do it without them noticing, or just do it and suffer parental wrath later. Heck, Mabel and Dipper had seen him con people before and been fine. Mostly. Stopping that line of thought now.

Trying to figure out how to keep the kids from noticing was always preferable to how things had been before any of them had come into his life. Now then, how to keep them occupied...

Hank, well, that kid could be distracted. Acacia...he'd already decided the girl was getting his brass knuckles next birthday, and didn't that say something about her and the way she was taking after him as it was. (And he was going to have to keep an eye on her, or between her and Dipper he just might lose his title in this family.) She wasn't going to be easy. As for Willow...

She was already staring at her G-Grunkle, that too-old look in her eyes again as she looked at his 'colors', glancing over at the man her Grunkle was debating just how to con.

She looked over at her brother and sister, the three speaking wordlessly before nodding, so like their mother and uncle it almost hurt.

Then she slipped off the stool she'd been sitting on beside Stan and was out from behind the counter with her siblings before Stan could stop them.

Acacia tugged at their target's coat, eyes wide and guileless and innocent – a look directed at uncles and parents far too often for them to think of it as anything other than absolutely, utterly fake.

Strangers lapped it up, though, especially when her siblings copied it. Apparently three still tiny redheads with huge eyes was irresistible, even to scumbag would-be slavers.

“Are you trying to make spooky friends too?” Acacia asked, overly sweet, and silently Stan decided to have a word with the kid about laying things on too thick.

Willow, meanwhile, had the intent look she got when she was trying to tell her uncle something from a distance, while Hank covered for her and Acacia continued to chatter to the indulgent yet disbelieving patron.

“We've got lots! Our Grunkle helped us!” Acacia chirped, bright eyed and cheerful. “We started with fairies but we've got a demon now! He has to do everything we say, 'cuz our Grunkle told him so!”

The man she was talking to looked skeptical, if fascinated. Acacia pouted (and how her siblings were keeping straight faces Stan didn't know, it was taking incredible willpower on his part to do it himself, even with thirty odd years of experience) and stomped her foot. “You don't believe me! I'll prove it, I will! ALCOR! GET IN HERE, WOULD YA?” she yelled, brandishing something shiny she'd dug out of her pocket, too small and clutched too tightly for the adults to make out.

The man's eyes went wide as he straightened and caught Stan's eyes, opening his mouth to speak just as a pouty Dipper appeared with a puff of smoke, hovering in front of the kids.

“W͋̎͂ͬͦ͑͢h̥̰͙̹ͨ̒̆ͅa̹t̳̮̜̑ͪͅ?̑̍̐̏ͥ̚ ” he demanded, arms crossed and sulky, every inch projecting irritation and sullen unwillingness.

Stan thought their mark just might faint and didn't bother to fight back the mocking grin that spread across his face. Their patron was paper white, eyes wide and round as he silently flailed and panicked.

Obviously, he hadn't prepared himself for the actuality of being in the presence of a 'tamed' demon, despite planing to enslave one – this one in particular, actually, if what he'd been hinting at earlier was anything to go by. Then again...no circles, nothing but their word that Alcor was going to obey them...

Dipper glanced over at the mark, baring his teeth in a quick snarl (one the triplets and Stan recognized as playful but Stan reckoned they had about one more of those before the man wet himself).

“Pick me up!” Acacia demanded. She brandished the whatever-it-was when Dipper pretended to hesitate, scowling with distaste. “Now!”

“U̡̾g̷͎̖̝͋̊h͈͚̲̲̬̤͋ͦͩ̽̎͐͆.͖̪̱̞ͩ̿ͯͫ͂ ̢͈͙̭̂͊ͬ̀͋̏ _F̪̊̿͗̿̃i̖̣̗͍ͫͧ̀ͬ̚n̙̻͍̬̏ͫͬ͋ͩ̎͟e̊́ͮ̐́,_ ” Dipper said, rolling his eyes. He bent and scooped up Acacia, looking carelessly rough and like he'd rather tear her to pieces than touch her while actually being as careful as he always was with his precious niblets.

Acacia twisted in her Uncle's arms to grin smugly at the shocked mark, while Hank drawled out a “She tol' ya.”

Willow grabbed a wing and gave it a tug, demanding ice cream imperiously when Dipper looked down (and it was a good thing Stan had all those years behind him of conning folks like this or he'd be laughing right now at the look on the man's face. Despite wanting to enslave a ridiculously overpowered demon, he apparently had enough self-preservation to know pulling on demonic limbs was a Bad Idea, but he was buying the act, and was sliding from panic to near drooling want for whatever they had that forced Alcor to let a little girl yank on his wings without retribution.)

“Well, get to it,” Stan snapped instead of laughing, keeping up the act. Dipper hissed at him, soft and inhuman, and yeah this putz was made of sturdier stuff than Stan had thought. Most folk unused to Dipper downright fainted when he made the demonic noises, and to the uninitiated that one must have sounded downright furious.

“Don't make me use this,” Stan warned, palming one of the more mystic looking key chains still stored under the counter from when it was the Mystery Shack and brandishing it at Dipper, who played along, cowering away from the silly bit of wood and metal with a surprisingly believable grimace before huffing, turning in midair with a flare of coattails and floating through the door with the 'employees only' sign, trailed by a skipping Hank and Willow, looking surprisingly like a cat projecting 'I meant to do this' the whole way.

Stan was so teasing him about that later.

The man watched, wide-eyed and unmoving, until the door had stopped swinging and the foursome were definitely not coming back.

Then he dropped his books with a thud and dashed to the counter, gripping it with shaking hands as he stared at Stan with ravenous, starry eyes. “Teach me your ways,” he breathed.

Stan smirked. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Damn, but he was proud of his kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why but it took me so much time to come up with something for this idea.
> 
> (Dipper says "What?" and "Ugh. _Fine._ "


	30. Of Demons and Don Pines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the TAU ficathon, a combination of [This post](http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/105215021448/hc-the-don-pines-thing-started-as-a-joke-the) and [this post](http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/109094261701/a-circus-that-traps-supernatural-creatures-even) from the fic open season tag.

His sisters started it, and Hank wasn't really sure he'd expected otherwise once they'd found out about the Dinner Crew which was _not_ a mafia _thank you._

 

But of course, once his loving sisters found out about his "mafia", all their previous nicknames for their brother fell by the wayside in favor of _Don_ and _Don Pines._

 

And his mother was no help. He hadn't really expected her to be, really. She called her brother worse than _'Don Pines'_ on a near daily basis after all.

 

So Hank just shared a shrug with his dad and tried to ignore his sisters', mom's and grunkle's teasing. At least Uncle Dipper hadn't joined in yet.

 

It was just a matter of time, probably.

 

 

He thought it was over when they went home.

 

He was wrong.

 

 

Lucy Ann came late for the weekly lunch (which was not a weekly mafioso lieutenant meeting _thank you Willow and Acacia_ ugh) and instead of her usual “Hey, Hank,” bowed and kissed the ring Uncle Dipper had given him to summon his bat and called him 'Don Pines', her eyes laughing at him the whole time.

 

He groaned and buried his face in his hands the rest of the meal, only coming up to give one word answers to questions or eat.

 

 

Almost before Hank knew it, all their close friends – within the Dinner Crew, at least, and if he were honest Hank had to admit that all their friends ended up in the Dinner Crew sooner or later – were greeting him with a bow or a kiss to his ring and calling him 'Don Pines'.

 

He let it slide since they were just teasing him, after protesting for awhile and getting nowhere.

 

Sometimes he still protested, but by then it was too late.

 

Then someone who wasn't a close friend did it, with awe and respect and a touch of fear in their eyes instead of teasing and laughter. (In their defense, they'd joined the Dinner Crew all of a week ago.)

 

Hank glanced over at the other new 'recruits' as Lucy Ann dubbed them and felt his stomach sink at the 'Holy crap this is a mob _we totally just joined a mob_ ' looks he was getting.

 

 

A month later and Hank was pretty sure he still hadn't convinced the new members that the Dinner Crew wasn't a mafia. (Lucy Ann and the others were, as usual, no help at all with that.)

 

 

But he just didn't have time to worry about whether the latest crew thought that or not.

 

Because the circus had come to town, and though it boasted a long list of supernatural performers, it only took one viewing by a few crew members to know they weren't there willingly, and it was looking like the Dinner Crew was going to have to intervene.

 

And, much as he'd like to keep it to just the Crew, he was going to have to call in Uncle Dipper on this one. There were several (low powered, it appeared) demons bound in the circus, and Hank wasn't willing to take chances.

 

It would be like a demon to play along with such a thing for their own amusement, pretending to be 'safe' and bound while waiting for their moment.

 

Hank and Vivi, who went the next night to check, doubted it though. The supernatural performers probably looked fine to most of the audience, who didn't deal with them on a daily basis, but to Hank and Vivi it was obvious just how badly they were being treated.

 

Act after act was trotted out and put through their paces, and Hank had to grip the seat until his knuckles turned white and the chair near cut into his hands to keep himself from leaping to their defense, seeing the tightness around their bodies, how ill-kept each and every one was, the dullness of scale and feather and hide, and above all the fear in their eyes that couldn't be hidden.

 

Then the demon acts were brought out, and Hank had to be reminded by a poke to the side by Vivi to breathe and realize that the spots in front of his eyes were from lack of air.

 

The demons were in just as bad of shape as the other supernaturals dragged into this show, just more openly ragged. Their eyes were blank and movements a touch jerky, and it was obvious to someone like the two of them that they were so tightly bound they couldn't do a thing without being ordered to do so.

 

One of them looked, for a few moments, like he was about to break free, only to be heavily doused with a spritzer of holy water.

 

Hank had no idea what happened after that point of the show (because demon or not, no one deserved to be tortured for amusement) but he did come out with a rough estimate of just how many needed rescue and how many humans they were like to have to deal with.

 

And how many demons, who could be unpredictable and as like to eat their rescuers as thank them, but still.

 

 

So it was that late that night, the Dinner Crew went to the circus. Toby and Lucy Ann, Mindy and about a dozen gnomes (who were good at locks, magical or otherwise) and Kiyo and about a dozen recruits, because this was probably going to be a relatively easy first mission (mostly because Hank has no intention of fighting fairly).

 

 

The warehouse where the supernatural acts were being kept (and why, oh why, did it always have to be a warehouse) was dark and eerily silent.

 

The only light came from the glowing eyes of the show's four demons, hovering at the four points of the compass around the cages, totally motionless. (It freaked even Hank out a little – Uncle Dipper had a tendency to bob in place when he was thinking, and he was never this lifeless or still, like dolls hung on pegs until their owners returned.)

 

Then lights blazed to life overhead, and the Dinner Crew that had come along on this mission shielded their eyes against the light even as the supernaturals in the cages moaned.

 

The ringmaster slash circus owner stood on the walkway overhead, and the workers stepped out of the shadows, bats and chains and more held at the ready.

 

“I was warned about your little club,” the ringmaster called from above. “The humans aren't much use to me, but thanks for bringing me so many new acts. Get them, boys! Critters, keep 'em occupied!”

 

The demons snapped to life, drifting forward towards the Crew, and Hank brushed a finger along the tattoo on his hip. “Alcor, now!”

 

The shadows merged in front of the Crew, twisting and growing, sparks flashing as it formed, and Hank would roll his eyes at his uncle's theatrics if he hadn't seen his sisters do the same type of thing to intimidate enemies (and Vivi wouldn't laugh at him later and claim he could be just as bad at times).

 

The demons froze, torn between being forced to obey their master's vague order and the power rolling off the demon in front of them, and the humans shrank back with satisfyingly terrified expressions.

 

 

From behind him, Hank could hear the whispers of _“Is that Alcor?”_ and _“Holy shit what's going on?”_ from the newest.

 

Uncle Dipper turned away from the lesser demons and the others with a contemptuous little flick of a wing, the little smile that Hank recognized 'time to make a point' firmly on his face, flickering over closer to Hank so they were both in full view of both Dinner Crew and Circus.

 

Before Hank could say anything, Uncle Dipper had grabbed his hand, and Hank froze. Bad move.

 

Uncle Dipper looked like he was barely holding in laughter as he purred “Greetings, Don Pines,” and lifted Hank's hand to kiss his ring, never breaking eye contact even as he smirked. “What did you wish of me?”

 

From behind him Hank heard the sharp indrawn breaths of every member of the Dinner Crew who hadn't yet met his Uncle, the whispers of “ _Holy shit Alcor just kissed Don Pines' ring!” “So who's in charge, the Don or Alcor?” “Are you kidding, Alcor kissed the Don's ring!” “Ho. Lee. Shit.”_ and the snickers of his friends.

 

Hank glanced over at the whisperers and groaned at the overawed looks in their eyes as they looked at him and his uncle. Uncle Dipper smirked wider at him, and Hank knew he did it in front of everyone for that exact reaction.

 

Dammit, Uncle Dipper.

 

They were going to have _words_ , later. For now... “Can you get the demons unbound and out of here? We can handle the rest.”

 

Uncle Dipper glanced over at the humans, who looked ready to flee already, and grinned, showing off the two rows of extra sharp for the occasion teeth.

 

They'd planned on capturing new supernatural acts and taking out a few humans, not facing off against _Alcor the Dreambender_ who was _oh god_ smiling and _obeying the human without a circle or a binding or anything and did he call him 'Don' shit there really was a supernatural mafia in Portland and they had_ _ **Alcor the freaking Dreambender**_ _on a_ _ **leash!!**_ '

 

Most of the humans broke and ran at that point, throwing down their weapons and fleeing in terror.

 

The Dinner Crew surged forward around Hank and Dipper, going for the cages and few humans who hadn't fled.

 

The rest of the fight went quickly after that. The demons were low powered, as Hank had thought, and it barely took Uncle Dipper more than a few moments to break their bonds. Uncle Dipper nodded towards the ringmaster, who barely had time to scream before his former captives were on him, and the Dinner Crew kept their eyes averted even as some of the captives cheered the demons on.

 

When it was over, the demons hovered for a few seconds, looking between Hank and Uncle Dipper with fright and uncertainty before disappearing, and Hank got the feeling that 1) they were going to remember that hand kiss and the apparent loyalty and possessiveness Alcor had toward 'Don Pines' and 2) they owed the Dinner Crew and Alcor for this, and they didn't like that one bit.

 

And, from the still-overawed looks on the newest recruits faces and the equally frightened and awed, in some cases near worshipful, looks on the faces of the rescuees, it was clear that they were all focusing on the same thing.

 

It was going to be _ages_ before the rumors about tonight stopped circulating, and to convince everyone (again) that the Dinner Crew wasn't a mafia. And who even knew what they were thinking about Uncle Dipper's little prank.

 

Meanwhile, Uncle Dipper himself was hovering over everyone's heads, silently laughing himself sick.

 

_Dammit,_ Uncle Dipper.

 

(He cursed his Uncle again when Lucy Ann came in to a meeting laughing, telling Hank how everyone in the community was talking about how Alcor the bloody Dreambender himself had kissed the ring of Don Pines and obeyed his orders without a deal or even a circle to call him, and full of speculation on just what that meant and who was the master and who the servant.

 

Damn. It. Uncle. Dipper.)


	31. Disco Girl~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mabel making dipper sing disco girl or maybe taking over midnight and recording it when he's not looking, and then sneaking it onto the answering machine. before he finds out, more than a few people have heard it. "dude... is that... alcor singing?" "It can't be, he'd never sing this!" but he did. i just really love the idea of big scary demon being caught singing embarrassing songs idk
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/104282607338/mabel-making-dipper-sing-disco-girl-or-maybe

 

“C'moooon, Dipper!” Mabel pleaded, going for the big eyes. “Karaoke's not about sounding good, it's about sounding terrible _together!_ ”

 

“Mabel, that's what you say every time you break out the karaoke machine,” Dipper groaned, giving the machine a distrustful poke. “I sound awful, and it's no fun.”

 

“But you sound better than you used to! And you like this song!” she protested, still holding the microphone towards her brother. “If you really hate it though...”

 

Aaaand the sad, disappointed sister voice. Dipper groaned and held out his hand for the microphone. The things he did for his sister...

 

Still, she was grinning now, and it wasn't like anyone else was going to hear them, right? Plus she was right, he did like this song...

 

Happily, Mabel started up the music, and he found himself smiling as he joined her on the opening lines.

 

“ _Friday night, and we're gonna party 'til dawn...”_

 

 

The Cult of The Twin Star stared open-mouthed at the answering machine. They'd gotten it before, when the great Alcor couldn't come to them, so it wasn't the surprise.

 

But the newest additions to its playlist...that was...interesting.

 

“ _O̧oo͝h Oo͏h,̧ ͜girl̨s d͢o ͘wh̸a̕t́ ̸w҉e ͟l͝i̵k̢e͞.̵ Oo̴o̸h҉ ̧Oo̵h͠,͝ ͡w͝e͡'̶r̀e҉ ̵t͞a͠ķiņg͜ ̷o̸ve̸r͜ ̕ḿi͟dnight.̛ ́Ta̶kin͏g ̡over҉ m͘id͏n͘ight!_ ”

 

Silence reigned for a few seconds after the song ended, broken only by the bloodcurdling scream of the answering machine.

 

“...someone tell me that wasn't Alcor singing,” someone towards the back said, incredulously.

 

“Of course not,” someone else snapped. “The Mighty Alcor would never lower himself to sing such things!”

 

“Sounded a lot like him to _me_...”

 

“Mizar's willing to sing...”

 

With a poof, the answering machine disappeared, and the leader facepalmed.

 

 

A week later, Dipper floated in the kitchen, going through his messages, frowning as more and more were of people muttering in confusion over the music on the machine.

 

A flick of fingers brought it up, and he set it to play as he flicked through the rest of his messages. Mabel liked changing the songs once in awhile, wouldn't hurt to che...

 

The thought was cut off as the fifth song clicked on, and a voice that was decidedly not Mabel's started up. “ _D̸is̡c̶o̧ ́g̶i̴r̀l͞, ̀c̕omi̵ng̀ th̀rou̴g̸h, t̴h̶at̛ gi͡r̴l iş ͏ýǫu!_ ”

 

Dipper went pale as he remembered singing that, thinking himself alone, right before Mabel burst in with the karaoke machine.

 

That song clicked off, and Mabel's voice caroled alongside his as they sang about boys and dancing, proclaiming themselves Queens of the Disco as Dipper's mouth dropped open and he took a deep breath.

 

“ _M̸A̵BÈ̢̨L̶̛͘!̶̀͘_ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to write up a month's worth of fic open season fics. Didn't quite make it, but here's the first of the ones I did finish. Going to try to post them on Wednesdays until I run out, circumstances permitting. :)


	32. Fan...demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one’s a combination of [this post](http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/106777129173/icelandic-pop-sensation-babba-summoning-dipper) and [this one](http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/123377657693/alcor-gets-summoned-by-a-member-of-babba-who-wants), both concerning Icelandic Pop Sensation BABBA summoning Alcor.

Well.

 

When they summoned Alcor the Dreambender (a desperate act, perhaps, but this tour was, quite literally, cursed) the members and manager of BABBA had expected the flames, the creeping shadows, and (somewhat, though not to the extent it actually had) the echoing, demonic voice.

 

What they hadn't expected was for the Dreambender to pause mid-opening to blink gold eyes at them before letting out a glass shattering squeal (was that...joy? Couldn't be good) and exploding into a shower of golden glitter.

 

They were going to be sweeping up bits of demon for  _weeks_ .

 

Then the Dreambender was swirling back up, reforming from the glitter. He coughed into his hand, looking away and...was that a hint of a blush across his face?

 

“ A͡h̢m̨. ͞Sòr̨r҉y̵ ̶abou͘t̴ ҉that.̨ Y̸es̢.͢ ̨Um͘.̡ Why hav͟e͢ yóu ̢s҉ummơńe͘d me̡? ” the demon asked, vibrating slightly, wings twitching and fluttering.

 

Their manager stepped forward, and Agnitha elbowed Benni, who was eying the Dreambender with speculation. Mostly with an eye towards the pyrotechnics and costume if they knew Benni, but knowing Benni...

 

Clearing his throat, their manager launched into the speech he'd prepared if their summoning succeeded, wrapping it up with, “At first we thought we were having a rash of bad luck, but we've been informed that we've been cursed by unknown parties to have a failed tour. We were told we're being followed by another demon, who's been behind the curse. In exchange for you running off this demon and breaking the curse on our tour, we're prepared to offer you...”

 

“T͘i͢cke̵t̨s̷.͢ ̡F̷òr͠ the̢ P̸ine̷s ͜famįly̢ of͟ Òr̨ęg̶ǫn͘ . ̵And̢ ba͟ckst̡a̧g̡e̶ p҉ass͏e̸s ͝f͏or t̸h̶em,” Alcor said quickly, pausing to cough and try to cover up the reaction. “A͜hem.͢ Y̧es͠. A͏n̴d̢ ̷w̕hatever ̵m̷erc̛h̸a̡n̕dise̶ t͜hey d̨e͏s̵ir͟e͟ in͝ ҉e̴xc̴han͠g̛e f͠o͜r͞ mȩ gęt͢t̷įng͏ ͜ri҉d of͞ your̶ demo͡n͘ p̷r͞ǫb͜l͡e̵m̸ . Dea͡l̵?͟”

 

“We have a separate deal we want to make,” Benni said as their manager and Alcor shook hands, blue fire (which they hadn't expected) traveling up both arms. Alcor turned those inhuman eyes on the group, and Benni swallowed before straightening. If he could stand in front of an audience he could speak to a demon, especially one as...interesting? intimidating?...as this one.

 

Still, he had to swallow a few times before the words would come. “The music...we need inspiration for the new tour. What would the price be for inspiration, a new muse for the comeback tour?”

 

For a few seconds they all thought Alcor was going to explode again into more glitter, he vibrated so hard and grinned so inhumanly wide before regaining control of himself, eyes still sparkling as he considered.

 

“On̶e҉ o͟f ͜th̶e͡ ͘P̸ine̷s ͜yo͘u'r͢e ̨giv̷in͡g ̶t̕icke͏t͢s̡ ͞tǫo? ̢G͡oes by҉ Tyr̶o̡n̶e̸? Y͢òu'l͢l ́let ͝h҉i͟m̢ ǫn s͝t̕a͟g͝e ̛to pl͘ay̵ wi͢th̨ ̴th҉è ̸b͜and duri͟nǵ ҉the͡ s̶h̴ow ̨t̴h̡e͡y͢ ̡c̛ome͞ to. ̧In̕ e̡xcha̶nge, ̧y͘o̧u'l̢l̛ fi͟n̸d͠ ͝new ìnspi̛r̴a͘ti͟ơn whe̴n͏ ̛y̡o̵u w̕r̸i̵t̷e ̛thé ̡ne̛w͟ ͜to҉ur̴'̨s mús͢íc.͢ Dèa͟l̡?̧” Alcor offered.

 

The band exchanged confused glances, but...what was the harm? They could spin this into good publicity – a loyal fan, winner of some kind of contest, what have you. It was...strange, especially for a demon, but... “Deal,” Benni agreed, shaking the demon's hand.

 

Alcor tipped his hat at them, grinning widely, wings still fluttering and buzzing, taking the special tickets their manager had already managed to produce with his free hand. “Th̨e̡ ́de͡al i̶s͏ ͢s͜ea҉l̨ed.͘ ͢A̢ ͢p̨l̢e̵as͏u̴re͡ doi͏n̶g̀ bus͜i̛nes̢s ̕w͟i̵th ̴you. ̴Ţhe ̡Pi͏ne͞s ͟w͝i͢l̶l҉ ͝m͡e҉et ̷yo͏u ̨àt͜ ͜you͟r st͢óp̴ ̡i̵n Or͠eg͝o̡n̛.̛ Be r̶ȩad̕y҉, ”he said, before disappearing in a shower of sparkles.

 

 

Back in Gravity Falls, Dipper landed on the couch with a little thump and immediately buried his head in the cushions as he let loose the happy “ _ Eeeeeee _ ” he'd been holding in during the entire summoning.

 

Attracted by the noise, Henry poked his head into the living room, eying Dipper warily for blood and other assorted bits. “Dipper, what...”

 

A gloved hand poked out from the cushion pile, and Henry got a good look at the tickets and backstage passes.

 

Dipper poked his head out of the cushions in time to watch the emotions flicker across Henry's face. A moment of childish glee, followed by fear, replaced an instant later with the remembrance that he didn't have to hide his enjoyment of anything not 'manly' anymore, and then he was joining Dipper in grinning like the giant dorks they were.

 

 

When Mabel came home an hour later it was to a two man concert of 'girly' Icelandic pop and two grins of pure glee as she was informed of just what Dipper had done this time.


	33. Mind: Blown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/105241885823/the-pines-have-a-family-reunion-which-includes  
> The pines have a family reunion which includes friends. Outsiders look at all the powerful people collecting in gravity falls and think there's going to be a massive war b/c all the power figures are gathering together and holy shit theres Don Pines and the dinner crew, Willow and ALL her children, Acacia being badass with her wifey and ohgoodgod is that Demon Hunter Wendy Corduroy hugging supernatural activist Mabel Pines and sldkfsdlkfsdlkf dWHY IS ALCOR THERE AND ARE THEY HUGGING HIM?  
> That one cultist in the woods who is spying on the whole affair decides to join a monastary far, far, far away from the state of Oregon

Peeking through the bushes that concealed his hiding spot with his binoculars, enchanted to see farther and clearer and even to see things that should be invisible to those without the Sight, Wallace eyed the Stanley Pines Memorial Library of the Supernatural dubiously.

 

Alcor the Dreambender was supposedly seen here on a daily basis, but...it was so... so _small_. And nearly rundown. How could a demon of Alcor's caliber truly 'live' in such a...such a place?

 

He shifted so he could see through the window and almost dropped the binoculars in shock. That was Alcor, had to be Alcor, no human would be floating a foot off the ground or have eyes of black and gold, and no other demon would be on the physical plane without a summons, but...an apron? No jacket, shirt sleeves rolled up and an apron?

 

What force could possibly force Alcor the Dreambender, most powerful of demons, into a not just any apron, but one with a ruffles and “REQUIRES CONSTANT SUPERVISION” picked out on the front in sequins? And...was he...cooking?

 

 

Mabel stumbled into the kitchen, brightening as soon as she caught the smell of cooking. “Pancakes!” she cheered, bouncing across the room to drape across her brother's back. “YAAAY!”

 

“Mabel, hot!” Dipper cried, trying not to fall over or hit Mabel with either the hot skillet or spatula, floating back down to settle his feet firmly on the ground.

 

She stopped bouncing but didn't move, her head resting on his shoulder instead. “So why're you making pancakes, bro-bro?”

 

He shrugged. “Felt like it.”

 

She looked out him out of the corner of her eye and grinned. “Sap.”

 

He shrugged again but grinned as he flipped a pancake. Deciding to just enjoy the moment and tease Dipper when he wasn't like to burn breakfast, Mabel stayed where she was.

 

Henry, stretching and still half asleep, paused on his way to the coffee machine to wrap his arms around both twins, giving them a squeeze. He muttered something that sounded like 'good morning' into Dipper's hair, that being where his face had landed, before shuffling off toward the coffee, leaving both twins giggling at his half asleep antics.

 

 

In his bushes, Wallace watched the performance with dropped jaw, unable to believe anyone would treat Alcor the Dreambender so casually.

 

He nearly dropped his binoculars when another redhead stumbled into the kitchen, cheering and draping herself over Alcor's free shoulder so the demon was bracketed by the women, interfering with his pancake flipping.

 

Gliese! And Mizar, and the Woodsman, Wallace realized. It had to be! Who else would dare treat Alcor like that?

 

If they figured out he was out here, watching them, he was so beyond dead!

 

But...he'd found them, their home, it looked like. Why would a demon have a physical home, on the material plane?

 

Maybe it was for Mizar and Gliese, he rationalized. If Mizar was human, or anything other than full demon, she probably couldn't live wherever Alcor did.

 

Rationalization made, Wallace began to raise the binoculars again when a car tore into the Library's parking lot, another pair of women, one tall and redheaded like the man inside, stepping out. The tall woman tossed a cane over her shoulder, her free hand on the side that (oh god) was missing an eye, the patch covered in rhinestones, reaching for the other woman, the two followed by a trio of kids that flew past them towards the house.

 

More children began to pour into the kitchen from inside, cheering when they smelled pancakes and spotted the women.

 

The tall man – he was The Woodsman, wasn't he? Wallace wondered, focusing the binoculars on him and seeing the antlers spiraling from his head – picked up one of the kids, and Wallace thought he might faint when the smallest of them all  _tugged on Alcor's wing to get his attention!_

 

_And Alcor just laughed!_ He didn't even snarl at her, or have the decency to look irritated!

 

What kind of demon was he, that he could tolerate a child? What was he going to do to her?

 

Gliese laughed at him and took the child, who reached for Alcor, whining. The demon half turned to say something and she settled, leaning into Gilese.

 

 

Wallace continued to spy, mouth open and disbelieving, as the pancakes Alcor had been making (a  _demon!_ Making  _pancakes!_ What kind of hold did they have over him?), were eagerly devoured, even by the older man who'd come limping out of the depths of the house (Alcor's mentor! It had to be! Oh, he was so  _dead!_ ).

 

Then another car pulled up, and Wallace wished he'd gotten out of there when he had the chance when Don Pines folded out of the car, followed by his wife and the upper ranks of the infamous Dinner Crew, another car of yet more of them following.

 

More cars followed, with a men and women Wallace couldn't place in current events, along with – oh  _shit_ – Wendy Corduroy!

 

Things were about to go way south and he was right in the middle of it all!

 

A last few cars pulled up, disgorging more people, and Wallace assumed after a few looks that they were related to the couple that had given Corduroy a ride, as well as a blond woman and young man that he recognized after a few moments as Pacifica Northwest, famed actress and activist.

 

The people in the cars started pulling things out, and Wallace tried to train his binoculars on the baskets, terrified to know what was in them yet needing to know what he was in the middle of.

 

Then Alcor came out of the house, followed by the rest of the house's occupants, and Wallace tried to make himself as small as possible, unable to take his eyes off the scene in front of him.

 

Oh god, Wendy Corduroy, demon hunter, verses Alcor the Dreambender! This was  _not_ a fight he wanted to witness!

 

Why did she have to choose  _today_ to challenge him? Why not some other day, when Wallace was far, far away from here, back at home, with his boss having all the information Wallace had for him and able to help?

 

Then Mizar and Corduroy spotted each other.

 

There was a screech as they flew at each other, and Wallace fell to the ground, dropping his binoculars and covering his ears.

 

When the earth didn't shake and sky didn't fall he dared peek, and his jaw fell yet again.

 

Wendy Corduroy, Demon Hunter Extraordinaire, was... _hugging_ Mizar the Gleeful? 

 

And Alcor looked...happy about it?

 

Wallace ducked again as Alcor swooped toward Corduroy, peeking at the lack of screams to see him...hugging her? With wings and arms combined?

 

There was...no blood? No screaming?

 

Now she was...swinging the most powerful demon in existence around in circles? While everyone around them laughed and continued setting up tables, and he shrieked in laughter?

 

And now everybody was hugging?

 

Was this some kind of trap?

 

_What was going on?_

 

 

(Years later, Wallace would occasionally stop whatever he was doing to stare sightlessly into the distance, softly going “Why? I don't understand,” and staring for several minutes before going back to what he'd been doing.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had such a hard time choosing what Dipper's apron was going to read.


	34. Drinking Buddies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So remember how the original Twin Souls idea was basically "Twilight, but with demons instead of vampires"? I kinda head canon that whatever actor plays "Alcor" in the movie adaptation will feel the same way about the series as Robert Pattinson does about Twilight.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/107671075340/so-remember-how-the-original-twin-souls-idea-was

“If you hate it so much, why didn't you just quit?”

 

“Ugh. I signed a  _ contract _ . I think the guy who wrote it is part demon...is that even possible?”

 

“Ew. No.”

 

“Sorry. Anyway, if I didn't finish the film, no one else would ever hire me.” The actor tilted his head back and took a deep swig of his drink, mirrored by the demon sitting across the coffee table from him. “Were you really trying to curse the movie?”

 

“Wouldn't you?” Across the table the demon – Alcor the Dreambender – took another drink, and idly Richard wondered if demons could get drunk.

 

“What does Mizar think of all this anyway?” Richard asked, just drunk enough to risk asking about the other half of the pair he'd been near forced to play.

 

“She thinks it's funny,” Alcor said mournfully, peering into his can to judge the level of alcohol left in it. “Likes to read the fanfics to tease me 'n the Woodsman.”

 

This hadn't been the outcome Richard had predicted when he'd heard his co-star of the  _ Twin Souls _ movie was going to try summoning Alcor. To 'see the reality and get into the role!' (Alcor had come swirling out of the circle, taken one look at where he was, and started ranting, arms flailing and wings flapping hard enough to kick up a good breeze. Richard had agreed with every word coming out of the demon's mouth, and said as much, which lead to...well, this.) But damn, it felt good to finally find someone else who hated the movie as much as he did.

 

“That's just cruel, man. I stay far away from those things as I can.”

 

“She thinks they're  _ hilarious _ . Talked the Woodsman into doing a reading and snuck it on my answering machine, even. Ugh.”

 

There was another pause as they both drank again, Alcor biting the top off the bottle Richard passed him, and the man paused uneasily before drinking from his own. Still, he was drunk enough – and desperate enough for someone to talk to – that he shrugged it off.

 

“And another thing, why would  _ anyone _ , let alone someone as old as you are,  _ want _ to go to high school again?”

 

“Don't even get me started, it was bad enough watching Mizar go through it without doing it myself. Ugh, and the way they act around each other...”

 

“ 'It's such a fairytale romance'” Richard quoted the interviewer from his last appearance. “More like a nightmare, if you ask me”

 

“She's my sister, why the hell would I even?”

 

“...really? I thought that was symbolic...”

 

Alcor shrugged and swirled his drink, looking more than a little buzzed to the also buzzed Richard.

 

“Sister. And she's married to the Woodsman. And...just no. Ugh. Why'd it have to get so popular?”

 

“Hear, hear,” Richard chimed in, clinking their bottles together. “I'll drink to that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My last fic of 2015, and it's something silly, light, and fluffy. Seems about right. ;) Happy New Year, everyone!


	35. Double Dipping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So here’s a thought I had the other day: what if Dipper showed up to a summons with a double?  
> Full thoughts/prompt here: http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/110035444768/double-alcor

Dipper grinned as he felt the familiar yank of a stranger's summons, so different from the gentle tug of family.

 

Recent conversations had reminded him of some things, and he saw a perfect opportunity to try at least one of them now, with a total stranger, and one who (by the feel of the summons, which he was starting to get a hang of reading) would probably deserve it, if only to get them to _stop calling_ for _five minutes_.

 

Really, if they were going to keep bothering him, they shouldn't be surprised when he took the opportunity to have a little  _fun_ .

 

 

Jerome really didn't want to be doing this. But, well, he'd been fascinated with the Dreambender ever since the demon came on the scene, so it only made sense that he'd make the demon the focus of his thesis.

 

He just hadn't realized at the time that would mean eventually summoning said demon to prove he knew what he was talking about and earn that grant money.

 

Still, he'd thought he was prepared. He had enough candles and small sacrifices to keep trying until he got the Dreambender to respond, and he had multiple hidden cameras videotaping the summons, to show his colleagues when it was all over.

 

Which was a good thing, because no one had ever reported a demon doing something like  _this_ before!

 

When you summon a demon, you should only get one, dammit!

 

Yet there, floating in the circle in front of Jerome (and looking somewhat bored, though also faintly smug, as though he were laughing at the researcher) floated not one, but  _two_ Alcors, identical in every way!

 

Each time Jerome moved, two sets of gold on black eyes followed him, the two Alcors exact mirror images of each other, down to each wing twitch and blink.

 

“ W̛͘ho̵̧ ͜d̀a͏͞re͏͏s̵̴ ̶̀̕s̵̀ú̀mḿ҉̶o̕͡ń̕ -  ” one began, the other continuing without pause “- Aļco͘͘r͏͏ t͟he͏ ̶͟͝D̵r̴͝e͢͞a͞m͠҉͢b͝e̸nd̛ȩr̸?̴̴͝ ”

 

Jerome swallowed and straightened. Right, so he'd expected one Dreambender and got two, but he could still do this.

 

The rest of the summon went roughly how Jerome had expected it – he was asking for a trifle, really, since the point was proving that he could summon the Dreambender and not get eaten – but it was still freaking creepy.

 

The Alcors either spoke completely in sync – all the way down to demonic reverb – or finished each other's sentences. When one spoke, the other watched, mirroring each other completely.

 

Quite frankly, it was a relief to shake Alcor's hand – and for a second Jerome had wondered how that would work and was relieved when one extended a hand, the other floating and watching like a hawk.

 

With a synchronized bow, the Alcors disappeared, and Jerome waited until the cameras were off before sagging in relief.

 

He needed a freaking drink.

 

 

Dipper burst into the Library two feet in front of Mabel, hanging upside down and grinning.

 

Mabel, who was used to Dipper having more silly moments now, grinned back, while Henry couldn't quite contain the surprised yelp.

 

“Mabel, you are gonna  _ love this. _ ”

 

 

He had to give a repeat performance when the kids got home from school, and Grunkle Stan lamented between cackles that the Shack was now a Library and they couldn't profit from this.

 

And of course, Mabel made sure to get pictures before tossing the camera to Henry and joining in the twin (triplet?) fun.

 

 

After that, that particular trick was stashed away in Dipper's 'things I can use to freak out cultists or amuse family' list and otherwise forgotten. Little surprise, when there was so much else going on.

 

But while the Pines may have forgotten, others didn't.

 

 

Mabel sprawled on the couch, flipping through the newest stories in the 'Alcor' tag of Archive Triple-O.

 

These were the best for teasing her bro with – they'd been a bit slow to update lately, but there'd been a recent upsurge. She was keeping an eye on a couple epics to really get Dipper with highlights with later.

 

Then her eye fell on a new trend in fics, and she opened the one with the most gold stars eagerly.

 

 

Dipper was walking on the moon, practicing a new piece on his violin (because 1. being able to walk on the moon was still  _ amazing _ and 2. Henry had asked he please find somewhere else to practice the uncanny valley eldritch music as it was managing to creep him out, and Dipper did love his brother even if teasing him was far more fun than it should be at times) when he felt Mabel's tug on their bond.

 

It was gentle but gleeful, so he followed it curiously.

 

As soon as he blipped into existence in the Library, a stack of printed pages was shoved into his face with a squealed, “You gotta read this Dipper this is  _ gold _ .”

 

Dipper gave her a skeptical look but started reading anyway.

 

_When the spell completed, facing him was a second Alcor. The original and copy circled each other._

 

_Yes, identical in every way._

 

_The original and copy shared matching grins before drawing together. The copy reached for the original, knowing exactly what the original wanted, drawing the original forward into a hungry kiss._

 

_For who else could he give himself to, allow himself to be taken and to sate his desires with perfect trust, but himself?_

 

_A flicker of reality made a luxurious bed, and the copy pushed Alcor down onto it with a groan of desire..._

 

The papers burst into flame as Dipper screeched, fleeing into the mindscape with Mabel's laughter following him.

 

Whhhhhhhhhy. Why would _anyone_ write _selfcest fanfiction_ of him?!


	36. Demonic Guardian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's a combination of three 'fic open season' prompts, all dealing with governments trying to bind demons as bodyguards, two of which specify the one needing a bodyguard as a child, that ends up accidentally torturing Alcor (pulling on wings/being annoying)
> 
> [Prompt One](http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/109105870993/a-special-government-organisation-in-most), [Prompt Two](http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/109106176528/just-imagine-a-group-trying-to-bind-alcor-to), [Prompt Three](http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/109107589378/with-that-little-girl-anon-just-imagine-her-just)

Dipper was steaming even before he'd finished materializing inside the summoning circle.

 

Mabel and Henry had just been reborn a few days ago (as twins! So cute!), and their parents hadn't noticed yet that the new babies had a demonic shadow hanging around, which meant he'd been able to coo over his sister and brother as much as he wanted, and he didn't appreciate being interrupted.

 

For a moment, confusion overtook the anger as he saw the dark suits, the sunglasses and other government style paraphernalia instead of candles and robes.

 

Then more anger overtook that confusion. He'd thought he'd convinced every government that had tried to bind him (and there had been quite a few) that it was a Bad Idea and they needed to Stop, that he was _not_ going to cooperate in their supernatural arms race no matter what they offered.

 

And yet here was another government, trying again! Okay so it had been, what, a century or two, but usually those were the sort of stories that stuck around, even with the resurgence of rumors about a spike in government summonings, he would have thought they'd have learned to leave him alone!

 

Already snarling, he glanced down at the circles, and saw three of them, powerful ones, for binding, and snapped into his void form, wings huge and black, fire streaming from his eyes and mouth, fire dancing along his hands.

 

The agents were pretending to be unaffected, but Alcor could sense their fear, see it hanging about them in clouds of color, thick and rich and spiced with righteousness and duty.

 

Still, he waited to strike, on the off chance they actually had something worth his time to offer rather than simply trying to enslave him.

 

One of them cleared his throat, stepping closer with a manila envelope in hand, and Dipper was reminded of another time, closer to the Transcendence, when another government agent had tried something similar.

 

He'd at least had the courtesy to be civilized about it, though.

 

“Alcor,” the agent said, “by these circles you are bound.” Dipper contained a snort at that – these circles would hold just about any demon, _except_ for him. Still, he could feel the chains attempting to settle around his throat, around his wrists and ankles and wings, and he shrugged them off while they were still weak enough he could break them subtly, before they did gain the power to bind him.

 

“We bind you to protect Agatha Mendis, to keep her safe from harm, body, mind, and soul, we bind...”

 

Dipper wondered if this had ever worked, this attempt at binding demons as supernatural bodyguards. Maybe a few had played along for awhile, maybe a few had truly been bound. Well, not _this_ demon!

 

With a snarl, he shot over the circles, claws at the ready. He paused when he heard a wail, the agents scattered by his initial rush but recovering quickly and scrambling to cluster around someone small.

 

“You – you stop that right now!” a small voice said, on the edge of tears and demanding. Dipper hesitated, anger diminishing as the child pushed her way to the front of the group, stomping her foot.

 

He tilted his head, momentarily baffled. He didn't know this child, but she felt so familiar...

 

Then he looked closer, and he could sense the agents readying their weapons as he continued to stare at the child, ready to protect her if Dipper made any aggressive moves towards her.

 

When it finally clicked he was torn between laughing and face palming. _Soos_ , part of him rejoiced, gleeful to find family even if they didn't remember him, while the rest questioned just what was going on here.

 

A quick mental scan of the vocal attempt at binding later, and Dipper was drawing back, wings going back to their usual size, claws shortening, and the void retreating as he turned to the agents (who were still trying to get between him and the child, and he got the distinct impression she was _not_ supposed to be here, so at least he wouldn't have to go after them for that on principle, let alone for endangering Soos).

 

Debating briefly, he picked the one who cared most for the child – Agatha, they'd called her, her name this time around was Agatha – and pointed at them. “Y̴o͠u ,” he said, leaving just enough reverb to his voice to make sure they knew he was serious, “You ̴a̢r͘e͏ g͘o͘in͞g̡ ͏tò ́exp͟l̢ai͢n̸ j̢u̧st ̧w̡hat͢'͢s͟ ̷g͠oin̨g on̷ h͢er҉e.”

 

 

Fifteen minutes and one lecture (“Do͠ yo̸u͟ h̷avè _a͡ny çlue͜_ wh́at́ ̨a̶ ̛ _b̀a̕d҉ ̕i̛d͡e̡a_ ͟thi͏s ̧wa̶s͜?͡ E͘v̧e͠n͟ ́if ̛i̸t͜ wor̸k͢ed? ͠ _E͘s̀pe͘çia͡l͞ly̕_ ̶if ̨it͟ w̧ơrked̛?̴”) and one explanation (as it turned out, Soos' – Agatha's – parents were very change oriented leaders that Dipper had noticed in passing, and as always, were under constant attack by those who didn't like change but were willing to use any means they could get their hands on to try and stop it) later, and clerks were being sent for, to draw up an actual contract.

 

Because Agatha might not be Soos, but the soul was the same, and Dipper wasn't letting anyone hurt his family.

 

But he was going to do this on _his_ terms.

 

 

Though only Dipper had known it, the arrangement Dipper eventually got them to settle upon was rather like the informal one he'd had with later generations of Pines, once he wasn't so closely related by blood as it thinned with each passing generation but still close enough to know each of them, to know them by name and love them.

 

So despite all their care, they hadn't noticed all the loopholes Dipper had worked into the contract, the ones that kept him from being bound, from being forced to do anything he didn't want to do.

 

Which meant that they hadn't really noticed, but they'd agreed to let Dipper pop in and out as he pleased and watch over Agatha on his terms – like a niblet, when they got down to it.

 

It was, in its own way, much better than anything they would have come up with, though they wouldn't have understood and Dipper had no intention of telling them.

 

 

As for Agatha herself...well. She was a few years younger than Dipper had first thought, about seven, and...he didn't really want to like her after her guards tried to bind him to her service, but she was _Soos_ , and for that alone he'd give her a chance.

 

Okay, more than just 'a chance', but if she'd been anyone other than unknowing family...he would've been so out of here and only popped in to check on her or if he felt her need.

 

Because apparently, she wasn't afraid of _anything_. Not even a demon, now that he was no longer angry and threatening.

 

But... _Soos_. And...she was so little. And they were desperate enough to try summoning a _demon_ to keep her safe...

 

On the other hand...it took her all of about five minutes after being told Alcor was going to protect her to decide that that meant they were going to be best friends from now on.

 

Which was when the questions started.

 

“Why are you always floating?” “Why are your ears all pointy?” “How's your hat floating?” “Is it hard to talk with your teeth all pointy like that?” “Why don't you have horns, I thought all demons had horns?” “What about a tail? I'd think it'd be fun to have a tail. Why don't you have one?” “Are these really real?”

 

This last was as she tugged on Dipper's wings, and he twitched them out of her hands and floated out of reach quickly. It didn't so much hurt (though pain wasn't much of a deterrent) as it felt very, very strange, and something he only wanted people he was very close to to be doing.

 

That and it was still a little hard to believe she'd just gone and done it. No one had even tried since the last of his great-great-niblings (of Belle's bloodline, this time, who'd known him since birth just as his original stars had).

 

“Yes, they're real,” he said, “Do you always ask this many questions or am I just lucky?”

 

“Mama says I'm...in-sat-i-able,” Agatha said solemnly, stumbling over the word.

 

“Right then, Elephant's Child,” Dipper said, still floating out of reach, and Agatha interrupted him with an indignant, “My parents aren't elephants! And my name is Aggie! _Ag-gie!_ ”

 

He chuckled and reached down to ruffle her hair. “We need to introduce you to the classics. Well, answering a few questions won't hurt...”

 

 

It was one thing to know, intellectually, that your security detail was worried enough for your and your family's safety that they wanted to try and summon a demon to serve as a bodyguard.

 

It was another to know that it worked...sort of.

 

And something else altogether when they finally admitted they'd summoned _Alcor the freaking Dreambender_.

 

Alcor, one of the most unpredictable demons known to humankind, who could protect children or traumatize them for life, who couldn't be held or bound and did whatever the hell he pleased.

 

Admittedly, he was far more prone to protecting children than harming them, but still! They'd told them to drop the idea, and not only had they gone ahead and done it, they'd made some kind of deal with the demon!

 

There was a contract, clipped to the report letting them know of Alcor's summoning, but it was ignored as Agatha's parents barreled out of the room, towards the wing where Agatha's rooms were.

 

They skidded to a stop outside the door, looking at each other in worry. It was so, so normal out here, no slime on the walls, no blood, no sounds of fear or distress, yet...

 

Barging in didn't seem like a good idea when there was a good chance Alcor had decided to watch Agatha and hadn't met them yet – and no one knew just how much 'protection' he was going to give their little girl.

 

Walking towards Agatha's door, clutching each others' hands tight, Richard and Tabitha looked at each other in confusion when they heard Agatha's favorite band, _Electric Toebeans_ , playing at her preferred volume – that is, far louder than her parents approved of.

 

They cracked open the door, easing it open cautiously, and then stared in disbelief at the sight that met their disbelieving stare.

 

Two sets of eyes turned to look at them, one normal, gleeful human, and one demonic and momentarily hostile before calming.

 

“Hi, mom! Hi, dad!” Agatha nearly chirped, not stopping what she was doing.

 

They watched, still stunned into frozen disbelief, as Agatha tied another ribbon into Alcor's hair, the demon floating a few inches off the floor cross-legged to accommodate her.

 

Alcor gave them big, sad eyes and mouthed “ _Help me_ ,” though it disappeared into an expression that, if it weren't a demon, they might have called 'fond' as Agatha finished tying the ribbon into an only slightly lopsided bow and gave it a proud pat before she picked her hairbrush back up.

 

Richard made a small, hesitant motion, as though to pull Aggie away from the demon, which bared its teeth at him. The demon settled back when he paused and pulled his hand back, watching them for a few more moments before closing his eyes and submitting again to Aggie's play. It seemed, whatever the parent's views on the matter, Alcor was staying where he was.

 

Humming along to the music and blind to the momentary byplay, Agatha ran a brush through more of Alcor's hair before burying her face in it (and giving her parents simultaneous heart attacks) as she giggled, “It's _so fluffy!_ ”

 

If she didn't know better, Tabitha thought the demon might have been...purring...as her daughter kept running the brush through his hair.

 

But that couldn't have been right...could it? But still...

 

“Aggie...be gentle, honey, he's...he's not a doll...” she cautioned as Agatha tugged harder with the brush.

 

If nothing else, things were certainly about to get more interesting around here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small headcanon: Soos reincarnations tend to shorten their names. Just a tiny quirk they tend to share.


	37. Things About Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sometimes when he's surprised or distracted Dipper's wings will pop out suddenly. Like one time Mabel had him cornered on the couch, tickling him into submission they went from frantically buzzing little buttwings to full-sized. *thwoomp* Dipper is now wedged in the cushions and Mabel is jammed against the coffee table. (Bonus, it happens every time someone that isn't family kisses him. Every. Time. Peck on the cheek? Thwoomp. Hand-kiss? Thwoomp. He wears them big at all formal occasions.)
> 
> You know how cats poof out their tails?
> 
> Kiiiiiiinda like that.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/105650678268/sometimes-when-hes-surprised-or-distracted
> 
> A series of vignettes about Dipper and his wings.

Stan Pines glanced around the corner into the living room.

 

Yep, there was his great-nephew, floating cross-legged a few feet off the ground as he watched the television, listlessly flipping through channels and not paying attention to much of anything, solid for the next few hours thanks to a deal with Mabel.

 

Perfect.

 

Mask firmly in place, Stan leapt into the living room with a yell.

 

Dipper shrieked, flailing and falling over backwards, wings going twice as big as usual in an audible  _thwoomp_ as he tumbled halfway through the wall.

 

Stan cackled, laughing harder as Dipper cried, “Grunkle Stan, stop laughing! I'm stuuuuck!” plaintively, legs kicking as he tried to pull himself free.

 

The fact that Dipper's wings puffed out like a cat's tail was forgotten in favor of teasing him about getting stuck halfway through the wall (and then using that to con some cash out of tourists – never let it be said Stan couldn't milk everything he could out of an opportunity).

 

(Though he did help Dipper out of the wall. Eventually. After Mabel took a good dozen pictures or so or of a grumpy demon limply hanging through a wall, arms dangling, pouty and disgruntled.)

 

* * *

 

Henry thought he was getting used to the particular brand of crazy he'd be marrying into when he'd moved into the former Mystery Shack turned Supernatural Library.

 

That being said, he knew he was wrong when he walked into the kitchen and found Dipper clinging upside down to the ceiling like a cat in the cartoons, wings almost as big as he was, hissing at a Stan who was laughing so hard he was close to falling over.

 

He heard Mabel come up behind him and moved a little to the side so she could see, and she giggled. “Looks like Grunkle Stan got him again,” she snorted quietly, and only then did Henry notice the mask Grunkle Stan must have dropped.

 

Henry started eying Dipper's wings again (he'd privately thought they were kinda cute, when they were small, but so far he'd only seen them big like that when Dipper was...yeah...so why...?).

 

“Uh...Mabel...?”

 

She giggled again, leaning against his side as she watched her brother and grunkle. “Dippy-cat,” she said with satisfaction. “ Gets all poofy. Just like a kitty.”

 

* * *

 

This cult was _not_ going down easy.

 

Dipper wasn't sure just what he'd expected – if they were sacrificing supernatural creatures instead of people, of course they were loaded for just about anything to come at them, but sheesh.

 

He may not have needed to breathe, but he was still panting as he and Mabel finished off the last of the cultists, both of them covered in blood (and how he hated to see his sister covered in that, wished he could keep her safe and away from all of this, bad enough he had to endure it but she wouldn't stay behind, not when her brother was going into danger or she could take down some cultists).

 

Still, the twins shared a victorious grin before they set out to free whatever sacrifices still lived as the last cultist fell.

 

Most of the would-have-been sacrifices nodded gravely or nervously in thanks before shooting off, running as fast away from the place as they could. All save the last.

 

Whatever they were, they were human shaped, and grinned widely when they saw Mabel – and the grin didn't fade when they saw Dipper.

 

“Well, isn't it my lucky day,” they said, in a voice tinted with a faint, Midwestern American accent. “Getting rescued by two such...charming creatures,” they continued, with a broad smile. “The name's Harkness. And what do I call you?”

 

Mabel giggled as he kissed her hand. “I'm Mizar, and that's Alcor.”

 

If anything, Harkness looked more intrigued. “Well. Not everyday you meet a pair of stars.”

 

His eyes traveled over both Mabel and Dipper equally, and Dipper tilted his head to the side as he studied Harkness in turn. “Are you...flirting with us? Both of us? Seriously? Because I feel like you're trying to flirt with us.”

 

Harkness smiled brighter, and Dipper didn't move fast enough before Harkness was pressing a kiss to the back of his hand as passionate as the one he'd given Mabel. “I dunno. Do you want me to be?”

 

Mabel crowed with laughter as Dipper's wings flared out in shock with an audible _whoomph,_ frozen and staring in shock until he started babbling, blushing cherry red. “Okay, yeah, so, uh, we need to get going now, hope you can find your own way home, Mizar come _on!_ ”

 

Mabel giggled again as Dipper dragged her away, his face still aflame, and blew a kiss back at Harkness. “Bye, Harkness!” she called back, and he watched them go with a flirty little wave as Mabel started to tease her brother, the pair blipping out of sight seconds later.

 

(And no, Mabel didn't let it go. Not for a very, very long time.)

 

* * *

 

Dipper was hissing, softly, wings mantling behind him, huge and void dark, arms close to his sides with his claws bared and razor sharp and eyes ablaze.

 

Mabel would have tried to calm him, but right now, she was feeling the same. She leveled a glare at the man on the other side of the library counter, casually as possible reaching underneath the counter for the weapons stored there.

 

“What was that, again?” she asked coldly, daring the man to repeat himself even as he stared at the demon who (to his eyes) had suddenly appeared behind the woman he'd thought would be easy to intimidate, with her colorful sweater and big, sequined flower in her hair.

 

“I...that is...”

 

“You are going to get out of Gravity Falls,” Mabel said softly, almost unheard over her brother's hiss, the one that went straight to the animal part of the brain and flicked the 'terror' switch, “and if you ever try any of the things you mentioned, well...”

 

She nodded toward Dipper, behind her, and the man nodded his head so hard it looked like it would fall off. Backing away, he never took his eyes off Dipper until he was out the door and running.

 

Mabel braced herself on the counter once she was sure he was gone, and Dipper's still huge wings came down to wrap around her, hiding her from the world, and he wrapped his arms around her from behind, burying his face in her hair and nuzzling.

 

The smile it brought to her face was a little sad, but fond nevertheless. Her brother really did act like a cat, sometimes.

 

* * *

 

Mabel glanced into the kitchen again, giggling, and Henry watched with raised eyebrows from his seat on the couch.

 

He finally felt safe enough to just sit and read, and he didn't really feel like getting up just yet, but he also wanted to know just what Dipper was doing in the kitchen (where he was doing the dishes in exchange for some of Henry's catch from yesterday's fishing trip – and Henry was very definitely not going to watch when Dipper ate them) that had Mabel giggling like that.

 

Finally relenting, he stood up and looked over his wife's head into the kitchen.

 

There was a CD playing, and Dipper was swaying along to the poppy, bright music – and his wings were twitching in time, a different tempo than his hips, flicking and stretching and dancing along.

 

“...do you think he knows he's doing that?” Henry asked quietly. Mabel shook her head, pulling her camera out of nowhere and starting to shoot video.

 

“He forgets he's doing it until it gets pointed out,” she whispered. “Then he gets all stiff about it and tries not to move them.” With that thought, they watched silently, getting video of Dipper's little dance until the song ended.

 

Mabel returned to the living room, still smiling, but Henry hesitated. He glanced back at the demon in the kitchen, still bopping along to the music, wings dancing, and smiled fondly before he rejoined Mabel.

 

* * *

 

The first year Pacifica Northwest was allowed to host the annual Northwest Ball was also the last time until her parents were simply too old and had no other choice, save stopping the balls or having a distant cousin, not of the direct line, host it outside of Gravity Falls.

 

She blamed it in part on the fact that she, at least, honored her family's promise to invite all of Gravity Falls to the party.

 

And when she said all, she meant ALL of Gravity Falls. The Northwest Manor was packed to the roof with all manner of creatures, human and not, and somewhere she knew her parents were losing their minds, something she would deal with later. For now, she was enjoying herself too much as she ducked and wove through the crowd to find the Pines.

 

She hadn't expected her crush on Dipper Pines to come back full force when she finally managed to find him and his sister in the crowd. (She had resorted to looking for Mabel's husband, or the 'Extremely Tall Red-headed Tree' as she mentally dubbed him. Considering Mabel called him her 'Gigantic Moose Man' she felt she was safe calling him that – mentally, at least.)

 

She'd expected the formal suit out of Dipper and something bright and glittery from Mabel. Well, she was right on both those counts, though Mabel's pulled together into something that managed to be amazingly bright, covered in glitter and sequins, and beautiful, resembling fireworks on a starry night to Pacifica's eye while still being amazingly loud and purely Mabel.

 

Henry looked awkward in his suit, and once Pacifica would have made a snide comment about the fit of it, too short in the arms and legs and obviously off the rack, but she was better now, working to be better everyday, so she smiled instead, hurrying towards them with a wave and a hug for Mabel, stepping back to look at Dipper only to stop and stare when he finally moved.

 

What she had assumed was a shadow behind Dipper twitched, and she realized belatedly that she was staring and Northwests did not stare but...Dipper's wings were usually tiny things, but at this moment, they were huge, and draped in a delicate tracery of gold chains that sparkled when they caught the light, and they were amazingly gorgeous and inhuman, a smack in the face to the pro-naturals her parents had invited while still being so very formal and elegant.

 

Dipper caught her stare and bristled a touch defensively.

 

“Well, look who decided to get all dressed up for once,” Pacifica teased before he could speak, recovering in the way she'd been taught over and over again, in the teasing the twins had taught her that was gentle and left everyone happy. “Don't I feel special.”

 

The defensiveness melted away at the normal teasing and he stuck out his tongue at her, forked this time, another subtle slap in the face to the pro-nats in attendence, his wings twitching and shifting with his emotions and each movement, the chains chiming gently as he moved. “Only get extra dressed up for you, sweetie.”

 

“And I appreciate it, honey,” she teased back.

 

His wings were twitching in time to the music, and she'd seen them do that before, just not so...big. “...feel like overcompensating tonight? Where'd you even get that jewelry?”

 

Henry nearly snorted his drink, and Mabel cackled while Dipper looked affronted again. “See if I try and dress up for you again,” he huffed, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, all affronted dignity, and he reminded Pacifica of the cat her mother had had once, all false dignity covering amusement and embarrassment. “I don't know, you try and be formal for someone...”

 

Pacifica spotted her parents coming towards them and decided it was too perfect an opportunity to miss. “And you should be showing them off,” she declared, threading her arm though his. Now that she was closer, she could see the earrings and ear cuffs Dipper was wearing, as if to accent his nonhuman ears, multiple thin chains connecting cuffs and rings, like he was going out of his way to flaunt every single bit of non human anatomy he had.

 

Knowing Dipper, he probably was. “Come on, my parents are headed this way. Let's have some fun. Plus, we match. Let's take advantage of it. I still want the details on that jewelry.”

 

Involuntarily the three of them glanced down at Pacifica's dress, a formal yet somewhat frothy affair of black and white, with black and white pearl jewelry and white gloves, and two of them knew she'd probably picked it to irritate her parents.

 

Grinning, Dipper bowed and tucked her hand better into his elbow, one wing sweeping around to give Pacifica a backdrop of stars and gold chain. “Well, how can I refuse such a gracious offer?”

 

The two disappeared into the crowd, still teasing and barbing each other, and Mabel elbowed Henry. “And you didn't think we'd be welcome here,” she teased. “Come on, I think Candy's at the cheese and chocolate fountains. Gotta keep up tradition.”

 

* * *

 

Henry followed the sound of shrieking laughter to the living room, pausing in the doorway and leaning against the frame with a slowly spreading smile. Automatically he caught the camera Mabel tossed to him, raising it so he could continue to film three tiny redheads and his wife as they wailed on the demon in their living room.

 

Dipper was laughing so hard he was letting off little bouts of blue fire, not big or hot enough to hurt, and little yellow sparks, gold tears streaming from his eyes as he squirmed to get away from eight sets of tickling fingers – none of whom were playing fair, especially when one set belonged to the twin that knew all his weak points.

 

His little wings were buzzing so fast they were a blur, and Acacia was giggle snorting as she tried to get at the base of one (a major weak point in tickle fights, falling right between the back of Dipper's knees and behind his ears, which he still thought only Mabel knew about).

 

Dipper squeaked, and the frantically buzzing little wings sprang into full size with a  _thwoomp_ . 

 

There were a few seconds of stunned silence as everyone stared at each other – the kids tumbled to various corners of the room, Mabel pinned against the wall by a wing, and Dipper, now wedged upside down between armchair and couch – blinking in surprise, Dipper as much as the rest of them.

 

(The rest of the video was too shaky to watch properly, due to how hard Henry was laughing once the first of them broke and started giggling.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there was a reference in one of these. No, I don't regret it.


	38. Throwdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> headcannon: this elitist asshole demon who wanted to get rid of dip to "keep our kind clean of human filth" starts a demon brawl with dipper and that. that is the thing that made alcor the dreambender a household name and put him on the "frequently summoned demon" list  
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/112816799893/headcannon-this-elitist-asshole-demon-who-wanted
> 
> I feel like I need to apologize in advance for all the Zalgo in this. (...let me know if anything needs clarifying/translated.)

Afardow the Prideful had more than earned their name and the right to keep it only theirs. Only the finest of sacrifices would do to tempt them from the Mindscape, only the most perfect of summons with the highest quality materials, and they were powerful enough to demand them.

Though they would eagerly accept the sacrifice of lesser demons to their glory. If a demon could be bound so easily, then they were unworthy to call themselves demon and deserved to be sacrificed to give power to the more worthy.

Other demons tended to avoid them with more care than they commonly put toward not meeting with each other. A basic precaution, since while most meetings of demons led to fights, it was a guarantee if they didn't meet Afardow's extremely high standards of demonkind – and it was the rare demon that could.

 

After the Transcendence, it took time for Afardow to hear the rumors of Alcor. Little surprise when they held themselves as being above gossip, and so few would dare approach them anyway.

But hear about him, they finally did, around eight years after the world changed irrevocably.

And they weren't happy.

 

Dipper was teasing Gompers the Second (while the original Gompers sat watching enviously by the porch, too old to chase after the floating coattails dangling temptingly just out of reach anymore) when he felt something akin to an electric shock tingle over his skin while a chill ran down his spine, and somehow he knew without being told (thank you omniscience) that another demon had just crossed into Gravity Falls.

There was another demon in his territory. And they were looking for him.

He could sense them, trailing blood and death and pain and announcing their presence and they were not allowed here and that was a Bill thought, a possessive demon thought, but Dipper didn't really care because Gravity Falls was his.

And they weren't allowed near his home. Especially not the Shack!

With that last thought, he blipped toward where he could feel the new demon waiting for him, already furious.

 

The demon waiting for him in the woods outside Gravity Falls was, quite possibly, the most stereotypically “demon” looking demon Dipper had ever seen.

Tall, with long digitigrade legs that ended in cloven hooves, too-long arms with too-long fingers tipped in long, black claws. Covering their torso was a sleeveless robe of black edged in gold, one that tapered down over their hips into a sort of loincloth that narrowed down to a point by their knees, belted around where their waist should have been.

Huge, bat like wings arched from their back, twitching toward Dipper when he appeared even as the goatlike bone head, crowned with arching, sharp tipped horns, turned empty eye sockets to look at him. The long, triangle tipped tail arching behind them snapped once as they looked Dipper over.

The two floated in silence for a few seconds, sizing each other up.

“Ś͞ò̶,̶̵͞” the stranger finally said, crossing their arms and sneering (as much as a bone skull could sneer), “t̴̨h̷͢i͠s͠ ͞i҉s̸͘ ͠͠th̵̕e̵͠ ̷͜h͞ų́m̷a͘n ҉́͞f͠i̧l͞t̡h̷͢ t̶ha̧t̸ ̧t҉͢h̵͘͜i͜ń̶k͘͜s ̵ţh͡͡e͞y̶'̧̧͡r͠͝e͝ ͜wo̵̢r̶͟͠t̀h̨y̢͞ ҉̢of̧͠ ̢̡be̴̡͟i̢͟n̢g͟͜ ̕͜͜à̀ ͟͝d̷em͝͡on̢.̵͘” They floated forward, circling Dipper, who refused to turn to follow and show that weakness even as they disappeared behind his back. “T̕͘i̸͡n҉̡̡y̵͏̛ ̵͜w̧͟͏ì̛n̶̷g̡s͘,͘ ̀͘n̢͜o̢ ̷t̢a̶̕i҉̶̛l,̨͘͝ ͟ǹo̷͟͝t́͜ ̴̴e̢v͞e̵n͏̴͟ ̛á ̡t͠͞r̷̡͘a҉̸c͢͢e ơ͡f̶͡ hò͟͟rn.̢̀.̸́͞.̴̛I͡͏'̀͜d̨͢͠ ͜͜͟say̕ y̢͘͟o͘͢u'̵̕̕re̴͡ n͢o͠҉ţ̶ ̶̧͏e͏v̡͠e͟n̵͝ ̢́͢t̷r̛҉yin͜g̨͞͝,͏ ̶̡h̡̨u̧m̴a̕n̷-̡͠b͜҉o̵̸͞y̴͞.̵̧̧ ”

Dipper snarled, shoving away the sudden urge to flare out his wings as big as they could go, his temper already frayed to near the snapping point between the insults and too close to MY town MY territory MY FAMILY. “G̕͜e̛̛͞t͜.͞ ҉̸̛Ó͢͠ut̶̡͘,̵̢ ” he growled, more reverb to his voice than he liked but he didn't care. “Th̡is̕ ̵i̡s͜ ͠m҉ý T҉er͏ŕi̕tor͢y̵, a͏n̛d yo̵u̕ a̢r̶en͝'҉t̕ ͞w͠el͘çom҉e̴ he͢r̴e.͘ ”

The strange demon laughed, and the trees around them began to wither. “Y̷͞ó̸ư'̧͞r̡é͏̕ ̧à̧lmo̶͘s̀t҉͘ ̡c̵͜u̷͠t̷e.̢ ̛I̡f̨ ̢́yo̢ų̵̛ ̛͡wè̕r͠e҉́ ̛a͠ ͘t̢҉r͏̕͜u̵e̴ ̡͞d͏͢͝e͏m̶̨̨o̵̧n͘,̧͘ ̶̨I͢ ̨mi̵̵͝ģh̡t ̛͏h̴͏a҉v͜͟e̸̷͜ ̢͞l͘e̢͡t ̴̷͟y̴͡͡oų͢ ̕l͘iv̨e̶͝,̷” they gloated. “I҉̧̛ a͏҉m͟͜ ҉̶̛Af̀á͞rdò̸w͏,̀ ̵̧b̸ò̢̕y͟͟,͘͠ ̕͜ań̶d͡ ̵n̶̸̷ò ͘h͟u̡m̧͟à̧̀n̵̛ ̀͢f̡͟͞i͏͢l̷̸t̛ḩ͘ ̸͡w̷͜i҉̴ļ͏l̀͟͟ ̀͜tai̴n̴t͏ ́͢d̨̕e̡m̨̛͢ǫ͘n̕k̵i̴ń͟d̵̷͜ s҉̡o̡ ̷l͝o̧͠n͝g̢͝ ̵͏as̵ ̷҉I͏ ̨͜l͠͡iv҉e̢,̕͞ ͠n͘o͢r͏̀ ̀͞s̵̨ha̶̛l̴̀l͡ ̴͜a͘n̶y̨ p̵l͢a͝҉̡cé́͡ ́͢a̢͟s͏̛ ̡f͞i͜l̢t̕͏͢h͝͏y ͏́a̡̨͢ş͞ thi͟s̢ e͟xi͝s͘t͏ ͠͏-͜ – ”

Their rant was cut off as Dipper snapped, a left hook catching their midsection and throwing them into the cliff behind them. It may not have been very demonic, but it felt good.

Afardow rose from the crumbled rocks, scattering the pebbles and fallen bits of cliff with their wings, laughing in a voice that would make mortal ears bleed. “Ye̷s͘, yes̢,҉ ͜gơo͟d!̀” they gloated. “Y̶o͢u ͜m̀a̢y n͡ot ́be ̧wor̵t͘h͘y ҉of ͠li͞f͘e, ̴b̢u̧t́ ̷át l͘e͏as͏t̸ y͏ou͟ ̧w̨i̢ll̢ pu͡t̵ ͡up an e͘ǹj͡oyab̸l̨ę fi̡gh͞t!”

Dipper just snarled, striking out at Afardown with claws that were suddenly longer and sharper than ever before.

Afardow caught his hand in its claws, smirking. “Y҉ou͡'̢l͞l ha͞ve̴ t͜o͟ tŕy̛ ha̡rde̡r t͠h̀ąn͘ that, b́óy!” they said, twisting sharply, and Dipper screamed as the bones in his arm snapped.

Without thinking he lunged forward when Afardow expected him to pull away, sinking teeth sharper than should have been possible into Afardow's shoulder, coming away with a chunk of demonic flesh when Afardow howled and pulled away.

Dipper swallowed before he realized what he was doing, his human side demanding he hack it back up while the stronger demon side grinned, licking lips stained with black blood and savoring the taste and rush of power as he smirked at the older demon, holding his arm close as it started healing.

“You ҉ąr̷e̴ ̧going t̸o̧ ̢r͢eg̡r͟e̶t th̢a̴t,” Afardow hissed, slowly standing from their defensive crouch, clutching at their shoulder as it seeped blood. “I ̶w͝í̡̀l͠͝l̕ ̶͢m̡ak͘e͠ ́͠yo̶̶̧u҉ ̡͘b̢e̕g̛͜ ̕͜f̶͡o̴r͞͞ ͏͢d́͘e̸͢͝at̴̕h͡͝.́͡”

Dipper bared bloodstained fangs and hissed.“B̕r̵i͢͞n̶̶͘g̴͜.̶̛ ̡Įt.̶ ͘͢O̸ņ̀͘.̵͘ ”

 

In the town proper of Gravity Falls, the ground shook, sending everyone tumbling to the ground as roars rent the air.

Something plummeted from the sky, hitting the pavement with an earth-shattering crack. Two dark figures bit and clawed, rearing up and ripping and tearing into each other over the cracks their impact left, hissing and tumbling, leaving black and gold blood streaked across the asphalt.

The swirling, snarling mass separated, still looking like a pair of cats brawling in the street, into Dipper and an unknown demon. Their claws left more grooves in the pavement as they skidded to a stop on either side of the street, crouching low and watching each other warily.

Dipper scrubbed a hand across his mouth, gloves shredded and useless, leaving a streak of gold and black, while the other demon ran a too long tongue over lipless teeth, glancing at the surrounding town.

“T́h̸i͘s̢ is wha̸t y̨o̢u'̸r̸e̛ ͢tr͝y̶in̶g̀ ̛t́o̷ ͘p̵ro͡téct? I̸f̨ ̴y̕ou fig͢h̶t ̸s̷o ̷for ͡i͝t,͏ ̡t͝h҉en̡ it ͟m̸uşt ̢b̴ę p͠ow̶er̷f͡ul͝ ̶in̨d͠e̷ȩd! ̨I̛ ͠c̶àn̵'t̷ ̶w͠ài҉t ͘to ͢f̨e̢as͝t ͝up͡on͡ it̷,͡ l͏it̕tl̕e͜ a̸bo̕minatíon̸!̛”

The strange demon shrieked a second later as Lazy Susan dumped the bucket of holy water they kept at Greasy's to spritz Dipper with when he misbehaved over it. Smoking and sparking, they shot into the air, shaking off the holy water as best they could even as it left burns on the bones of their body and holes in their wings.

They landed heavily and spun, hissing at Lazy Susan. “Ơn͠͝c̵e̴ ̡̕I ̡k͘͠il̡҉l̵̸͘ t̷͟h̨͜is ̵̶u͘p̢͘͏s͝t́a̷̶͢rt,̸̕ ͏̴̕y̶o̧̢͞ų͝҉ ̛d̡įe̸͟ ̷̸̛f́͘i̸̕͠r͞st͘͘!̀”

And Dipper struck. His leap sent them back into the mindscape just long enough to blip them out of town and away from the people there while he bit and clawed, ripped and tore, giving as good as he got, even as his own body was torn by Afardaw's claws and burned by his fire.

“M̸͠y ҉to̕͡w̡̡͝n҉̀! ҉͏̧M̛͜͠y͘҉ ̕͜p͘e̷̴̶op͜͢l̕e͜͞!̸̨͡ ́̕M̢Y̨̨ F̵͜҉A̸͢M̧IL͏̕Y̸!̢͏͡ ” Dipper roared, “Y̷̧o̵̵̕u wìl̶͢͢l̡ ̨͘͘n̕͞o̶̢̡t̸̶͟ t̀ó͝ù̢c̴̡͏h ̶̛t̛h̸́e̵̢͝m͏͏!͟͟”

They hit the ground outside Gravity Falls, tumbling end over end and separating in the crash. Warily they circled each other, each nursing wounds and watching for the other to make a move.

Afardow wouldn't admit it, but they were frightened. They'd thought this imposter would be weak, a human pretending to proper demonhood, unworthy of the title, but he was strong, stronger than he should have been, as young as he was.

They had to finish this, and fast, before this upstart could shame all of demonkind even further. A tiny part demanded they flee, but it was silenced – Afardow was a full, proper demon, he would not lose to this pathetic thing that had no right to claim demonhood!

He leapt at Alcor, and blue and gold flames erupted around them as they collided in the center of the circle.

There was a crash, and the people of Gravity Falls looked towards the woods where bright flashes of light and blue fire strobed against the sky as roars and guttural, demonic screams rent the air.

It seemed like the noise would never stop, like the world was coming to an end a second time.

Then abruptly it all went quiet, and the residents of Gravity Falls clung to each other and watched the skies, unsure of who had won and just what to do.

Despite their worry for Dipper, they held back from going to see – better to let the experts do that (plus, they'd gotten a good look at his opponent, and general opinion held that they didn't want to go up against that unless Dipper was in serious trouble), so Mabel and Stan headed the search party that went out to find him as soon as the screaming stopped.

(They would have gone earlier, much earlier, ready to defend their brother/grandson nephew, but they'd been held back by the rest of their family when the ground shook and it was obvious that any human nearby wouldn't survive being close to whatever was going on.)

They found Dipper crouched in the center of a crater that hadn't been there before, covered in black and gold blood, gnawing on something they couldn't make out from the edge. He dropped it when he saw them, slowly floating upwards until he met them, wiping his mouth sheepishly as Mabel grabbed him, twisting him in midair to check for injuries, most of which were already starting to heal.

He stayed downcast even after Mabel grabbed him for a hug, sighing heavily and following her back towards the Shack to be properly looked over, looking back over his shoulder for a second at the crater they'd left before giving himself a little shake.

Stan punched his shoulder and they shared an understanding glance as they made their way back home

 

Dipper was torn between freaking out at just how powerful he was and preening when they finally had time to look up Afardow and realized just what Dipper had taken down.

Mabel got out Bear-O special for the occasion when he started getting a little too puffed up about it.

 

The supernatural gossip line meant that everyone else knew just what Alcor had done almost before Dipper himself did.

A new demon that was that powerful was someone to watch, and supernatural eyes began to keep a wary watch on Gravity Falls at that point – from a cautious distance.

A very cautious distance.


	39. If Found...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: what if Dipper was summoned while he was wearing the if lost return to henry sweater?  
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/116289158243/for-fic-open-season-what-if-dipper-was-summoned

 

The current summoner's eyes kept drifting from Dipper's face down to his chest, and Dipper wasn't quite sure why.

 

Still, he was trying to be professional about this, so he refused to look down, even as he frantically hoped he didn't have spit-up or something on his shirt. Maybe blood from the raw steak he'd traded Henry in exchange for the badly needed yet out of budget tuning on the piano?

 

Despite his summoner's continued distraction the deal was offered, reworked and shaken on. It was barely worth the summoning, and Dipper had the feeling it was mostly to prove that his summoner could get the attention of a demon of Dipper's power – for the ego boost rather than the material gain.

 

Whatever. He was still blipping out of this with a deal in his favor.

 

 

As soon as he was back at the Shack, Dipper looked down to see what had caught his summoner's attention and immediately buried his face in his hands, steam coming out of his ears as he burned with embarrassment.

 

He'd forgotten to change from his beloved  _“If found, return to Henry”_ sweater when he'd been summoned and had worn it through the whole thing.

 

...at least it wasn't the  _“Sir Dippingsauce”_ one again. He'd been lucky to get away with that one with as little damage as he had.

 

 

iseefire: so I finally did it. I summoned Alcor.

 

penny_pincher_692: ooooh deets deets give us the deets!

 

changeling_chold_babe: did he look like the books?!

 

[!]Randomgurl996: changeling, remember that little talk we had about mentioning those books?

 

changeling_chold_babe: it's a serious question! it's always either really hot or super scary and I wanna know if the textbooks or novels are right!

 

iseefire: Well I don't know about the books, but he wasn't quite what I expected. I mean...yeah, he had the fire and the wings and all but...guys...he was wearing a sweater. A bright blue sweater that said 'If found, return to Henry' on it. Who the HELL is Henry?

 

 

Henry leaned back, looking at the forum and biting back a smile. He didn't get much time for browsing forums about his brother lately (even avoided them sometimes, since they could be...disturbing), but...this one time it was worth it.

 

It was a little weird, watching people speculate on just who the 'Henry' on Dipper's sweater referred to, but it was kind of funny, too.

 

Now...did he tell Mabel about this now, or save it for when he needed something to tease Dipper with?

 


	40. What We Do For Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alcor getting summoned by desperate teenagers who need help, but the thing they need help with is tracking down their younger siblings who have gone missing/been abducted.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/112764548818/alcor-getting-summoned-by-desperate-teenagers-who

 

“Jack, you got the candles? Ahmed, what else did we need?”

 

“Just chalk. I had to go through...” a moment to regain composure “...through Aida's stuff to find some sidewalk chalk. Will that work?”

 

“It has to, we're running out of time.”

 

Pieces of paper were passed around the circle, with an incantation hand printed on them. “It's an older version, but it might still work. I found it on sites for people who needed it like we do.”

 

“We're _so dead_ if we get caught, they won't care that we're kids.”

 

“We're even more dead if he's not feeling like helping, but what other choice do we have?”

 

 

Dipper was floating in the Mindscape, watching the Flock as it grazed, when he felt the tug of a summons. The latest anti-demon campaigns had been doing well and it had been awhile since anyone was egotistical or desperate enough to summon him...and this one had a definite tinge of desperation to it.

 

Intrigued, he let it pull him from the Mindscape, already selecting which particular entrance he'd use this time.

 

 

He went for traditional, thundering out “W̷̧h̵̷̕o̧ ͏͏D̀ar͏͏͡ès̶̢̡ ̸̀S͢um͝҉͡m̸on͢ A̢͘͟ļ͝co͠r̀͡ ̕t͏h̡e͜ ̨D̷͜͏r̵͠͡e̶a̡̢̛m̷̕b̢͞e̶͝͞n͏d̴͡e҉̀r̡͜͞?̸” as he appeared in the center of the carefully drawn circle.

 

He paused as he got a better look around the circle. Decent candles, those were hard to come by these days as people tried to cut down on summonings by banning the supplies alongside the established laws against summons, thick lines of good, solid white chalk, and his unrobed summoners surrounding it – and he wasn't happy to see seven teenagers instead of the usual adults, teenagers who were too nervous to be potential Cult of Dippingsauce members.

 

Dipper groaned. “Ser͘io͝us͟ly? W̵h̨a͘t͘ is͝ t̕h́is,͢ a̕ ̛j͞un҉i̡or͞ ̢cult?̶ If you'v̴e̡ ͟s͡u̷m͞m͡oned ҉mè ̸b҉ec̀a͠us̢e̴ y̧ou͝r g̀r̡ades͢ ̡nee̴d ́a ͢bo͜o͞st҉ òr yo͜u҉'̨ve r̵e҉a̢d ͟to҉o ͟muc̵h ͘Twi̧n͢ S̨oul͜s̸.̀..”

 

“Our little sibs are missing!” one of the teens interrupted him, and Dipper stopped short, looking up from where he'd been examining his claws to take a better look at the group in front of him.

 

Their colors were violent, in shades of worry and anxiety and heavy, heavy fear. Slowly Dipper lowered his hand, turning to face them fully. His eyes darted over each of them and he knew it was making them more nervous and he had an image to maintain before he broke it but it was hard with this much sibling worry in the room.

 

“Te̸ll̛ me wh̴a̛t's go͘ing̨ ̸on͏, ” he demanded, deciding it was safe to drop a little of the act.

 

The story was a rush, told by several of the teens overlapping each other as they spoke, but Dipper heard more than what they were able to say.

 

Children going missing, rumors of them being sold, to slavers or as sacrifices or what no one knew, just that the few that had been found had been in pieces, pieces that looked like they'd been bitten apart or torn asunder, and now these seven, their little sisters and brothers were missing and no one had any clues and they were just  _ gone _ , and they were desperate to find them before...before...

 

Desperate enough to summon a demon for help, smart enough to go to the only one that had rumors of being kind to children, even if they were only rumors because demons were so unpredictable. (Add in that despite himself Dipper did sometimes forget himself, though he never hurt a child on purpose, he still wasn't sure he wanted everyone to know he had any soft spots, plus it had been awhile since there had been accurate information about him...)

 

And damn it all, but Dipper understood. If it had been Mabel, or a nibling, or one of their reincarnations or however many times great niblings gone missing like this...he'd done worse to keep them safe than take this kind of risk.

 

Dipper could feel his inner demon snarling that they take these kids for all they had, they were  _ desperate _ and it could  _ feel _ how much they were willing to sacrifice...but the part of him that was still human (and the part his inner Mabel called “Overprotective Daddy Dipper”) was stronger.

 

Silently, he sighed. He wasn't going to be able to live with himself if he didn't help, demon or not. Besides, it wasn't like he didn't already have a bit of a reputation for being soft on kids, the many misunderstandings about what that meant notwithstanding, he couldn't just leave and let those kids die.

 

Several of the teens were starting to cry, the colors surrounding them saying clear as day that they thought he was going to either screw them over or laugh at them and leave, and if they'd gotten any other demon...well. It wouldn't have been pretty. But...

 

“S҉top.͘ Just͡.́..͟fine.͠ Í'̸l̴l͢ h͏elp ͟you,̶” Dipper said, trying to project annoyance and not sure he was succeeding. “Do you have _anything_ to make a deal with? At least to start off with?” Something like this, he'd probably need a lot for...one of the teens pointed to a pile of things in the corner, and Dipper sensed candy and sentimental items. “It's a start. We'll...decide full payment later,” he decided, hoping he wouldn't regret that and dropping the rest of the reverb. He should have enough energy from the potential deal to take care of most things, combined with that, unless... “Depending on what I have to do.”

 

Well. He'd see, and doing it this way was going to cost him, but these kids didn't have much, probably not enough for what they were asking, considering the size of the pile they'd gotten for him. But right now, with so little to go on...

 

The crying teens hadn't stopped, but it seemed to be a mix of fear and thankfulness now, at least. Dipper folded his wings in close and stepped out of the circle, ignoring the surge of fear coming from the teens as he ignored the circle's supposed protection, the pile in the corner disappearing as he did, to be gone through properly later.

 

A snap brought up a map of the city they were in, and he gestured for them to come closer. They hesitated, and while he couldn't blame them (he _was_ a demon, after all, and thinking about kids in danger had his claws and teeth sharper than they were when he was calm or at rest, so every instinct had to be telling them to stay away) he was still impatient and sure it showed.

 

“I want one of you to point out where your siblings were last seen. The rest, I need you to get something of your siblings', something they love. I can get a feel for them off that.”

 

“Someone tried tracking kids like that earlier, sir,” one of the kids, Jack, said hesitantly. “It didn't work. They think they're warded against being found.”

 

Dipper grinned, and he knew it wasn't a nice one. “They weren't warded against _me,_ ” he said, and he knew he was being arrogant, but it was also true. “It won't hurt to do it. Just hurry.”

 

“I think Mary Ellen left her pony at our house,” Ahmed said quietly to the girl Dipper got the impression was in charge. “I'll get it with Aida's unicorn.”

 

She nodded quickly and he rushed out of the room as she stepped closer to Dipper. “Okay,” she said shakily. “I know Aida and Mare were coming home from the park when they disappeared...”

 

 

Dipper hovered over the city, invisible and inaudible, unless someone with the Sight happened to be searching the skies. The teens had managed to scrape together enough candy and offerings in that pile of theirs to give him the power to at least find the kids, though only barely, enough for him to satisfy his demonic instincts that demanded some kind of deal before he started searching.

 

He had a feeling that, when he found the kids, the ones who'd be paying the real bill for all this would be whoever took them.

 

There was a flicker on the edges of his senses, and he honed in on it. As he drew closer, he could feel one of the little girls he'd gotten a sense of from her favorite toy, but it flickered back and forth, disappearing in and out.

 

No wonder they hadn't been able to track the kids before. The signal wasn't being blocked, per say, but was being scattered, so that it was too weak to track, save for the brief seconds when it came back together, only to be scattered again.

 

He followed it in spurts, hating how long it was taking but unable to go any faster until he got a better fix on just where at least one of the children was.

 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he managed to figure out just which building the child was in, and felt the strong warding spells around it.

 

Strong, but not expecting a demon, and unlike the spell hiding the children, based on traditional wards. This, he could thread his way through, leaving it open for him to leave behind him and no one the wiser.

 

He wanted, so, so badly, to rip his way inside with fire and teeth, let everyone inside know he was coming and fear, once he was inside the wards and could sense the children properly. They were all here, more than the just the ones the teens had summoned him to find, and they were so, so scared.

 

But that would put the kids in even more danger, so he forced down the part that wanted to kill and tried to think.

 

Okay, just...just sneak his way in, find the kids, and get them out. Come back later and rip apart who and whatever had decided to prey on little kids.

 

Right. Decent plan. About as good as he was probably going to get at the moment.

 

Especially with all the blood and pain and fear that was soaked into this building, distracting him with the opposite desires of wallowing in it and destroying the ones who caused it.

 

The scent and feel of blood and fear was heavier once he was inside the building, and he wanted to choke even as the demon in him fed on it.

 

He followed the feel of the most people, peeking in rooms that had more than one soul in them.

 

The first one had a few adults in it, doing some kind of paperwork. Dipper was tempted to go in there, rip them apart and destroy the papers, one of which he could see from here looked like some kind of bill of sale, like the kids were some kind of commodity.

 

He restrained himself, barely. If there was one thing he knew the importance of, from long experience and desires even as a human, it was record keeping.

 

And he was going to do his best to make sure the police – whatever ones weren't helping here – got their hands on those when this was all over with.

 

He found more adults, ducking out of sight once he had a count of them despite being in the mindscape. You never knew who had the Sight anymore and would see him anyway.

 

He counted a good dozen adults before he finally felt smaller bodies, the source of the fear, and he popped his head through the floor into a basement room.

 

There were eight kids down in the basement room, chained to the wall and to each other. Some of them were crying, but most of them looked exhausted, too exhausted even to cry anymore, numb to what was happening.

 

The 'scents' he had gotten off the teens matched, and he slid through the floor. A quick glance around showed a lack of security system or video feeds, depending on the chains and locks and wards to keep the kids in.

 

Of course, now that Dipper was in, the wards were useless, far too weak to hold him or keep him out. As for the chains, well, those weren't going to last long.

 

One of the kids looked up, and their eyes went wide, fear spiking in a rush, obviously able to see him.

 

He shimmered into view, much gentler than his usual dramatic entrance. The kids still gasped, and he heard a few more of them start to cry, with soft, dry sobs of fear.

 

“Shh, shh, it's okay,” he said softly, gesturing with hands whose claws were blunted, a gentle patting of the air 'stay calm' gesture as he floated down closer to the floor and the kid's level. “Your older sibs sent me. I'm here to get you out of here and take you home.”

 

“Dun' believe you,” one of the kids said, voice rough and shaky from crying, and Dipper smiled, trying to be reassuring.

 

“That's good, that's good, but I mean it. You're Mary Ellen, right? Sarah Ann and Ahmed sent me. You left your pony at Aida's, by the way.”

 

The little girl stared up at him with huge eyes, obviously wanting to believe him but afraid to, between his demonic appearance and her current situation.

 

She looked like she had been utterly adorable when she'd been taken, but now her overalls (with sparkly unicorn patches) were dirty and her pigtails were half undone, her face streaked with tears and dirt.

 

The other kids were in a similar state, and Dipper smelled blood where some had been fighting their chains, and could see with both sight and Sight the bruises, hateful bluegreenblack, on both body and mind, and controlled himself with a hard wrench not to let the kids see how furious it made him to see.

 

“You've got to stay quiet, okay?” he whispered, landing softly on the floor and crouching. “I'm going to sneak you out of here.”

 

“What about the people who took us?” another child asked, and Dipper felt his ears try to lay back at the thought of them.

 

“I'll take care of them later,” he said darkly instead. He snapped his fingers, feeling the quick drain on his powers that had yet to be satisfied with making a proper deal, and the chains unlocked and fell away from the kids. “Come on, let's get out of here.”

 

“I can't go!” Mary Ellen wailed, grabbing onto Dipper's pants leg with both hands and clinging, apparently deciding that he was telling the truth and he was safer than the alternative. “They took Aida! She wouldn't stop crying so they took her away!”

 

Dipper took a glance over the kids again and this time was able to note two missing kids, and he bit back his snarl before it could frighten the ones he'd found. “Okay. Change of plans. You kids stay put, barricade the door. I'll be back with Aida and Jacob as soon as I can. Be ready, we'll be teleporting out of here as soon as I have them.”

 

After a moment's though, he snapped his fingers again, weapons from his arsenal in the mindscape appearing for the kids, most of which appeared along the lines of water balloons and squirt guns, things that they wouldn't hurt themselves with but whose ammo wasn't water and would play merry hell with any adult that tried to step inside.

 

“Here. Use these if someone tries to come in, and call me. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

 

In a rush Dipper flashed through the door of the basement cell, seeking out the 'scents' he had for Aida and Jacob, hoping against hope he'd find them before it was too late.

 

He felt them, finally, and peeked into a room to see a group of adults standing around a circle, lighting candles and checking lines.

 

There was a man in the back watching them, and Dipper sensed hunger from him, one that made even Alcor want to be ill.

 

There were two small lights locked in a closet on the right side of the room, two tiny bodies huddled together and small hearts pounding in terror.

 

Dipper glanced at the circle again, and felt the presence hovering nearby, between mind and nightmare scape, eagerly waiting for the summons, and with a snarl he blipped into the mindscape to meet them.

 

 

The kids were left in the closet as the chanting began. These two hadn't quit crying yet, not since they'd gotten here, so Uifaixal should be extra pleased with them.

 

It was really a bargain – one kids out of every five they took for protection against being found or revealed by dissatisfied customers. Though this area was starting to lock up their kids, so they'd probably have to move on soon.

 

A pity. This city had been ripe for the taking, with the police stretched farther and with fewer resources for them to use to search than there would have been in a more prosperous area, more willing (at first, at least) to just think the kids had run away, until they'd taken too many and even a force this thin had to realize something was happening.

 

The chant finished and Uifaixal landed in the center of the circle with the thud of lifeless meat, still clawing weakly at the other demon whose teeth were fixed in Uifaixal's throat.

 

The new demon, a creature of black void and golden lines like brickwork, ripped their teeth free of Uifaixal's throat with a spray of black blood that hissed when it hit the floor.

 

They snarled as they wolfed down the piece of Uifaixal they had ripped free in jerking, animalistic motions, blood dripping down their jaw and smeared across their face.

 

Their glowing gold eyes fastened on the humans in the room as Uifaixal gurgled and spasmed under them. The new demon took another tearing bite out of Uifaixal's throat without breaking eye contact, and the Uifaixal gurgled again and went still.

 

The people around the circle tried to back away and the new demon hissed, slowly rising and floating above Uifaixal's body, which was starting already to dissolve, freezing the humans where they stood, wiping the blood off their mouth with their sleeve.

 

“Dreambender!” their leader said, recovering from their surprise quickly. The Dreambender snarled, growling lowly as the man kept speaking,

 

 

Dipper was seething as the man spoke. The circle wasn't meant for him, wasn't strong enough to hold him, and he could feel the fear pouring off the humans in the room, the uncertainty of what was going to happen if they didn't salvage this situation right now and the desperate hope that the circle would contain him, and he felt a certain justice in that. They had caused enough pain and fear, let them be on the other end of it for a bit.

 

But the man just. Kept. Talking! Offering Alcor the deal he'd had with Uifaixal, heaped high with praise and flattery, and it made Alcor sick to even hear what they had been doing, admitted directly from the man's mouth.

 

“En̢͘͟o͟u͜͏ģ͟͠h̕,̵́͡” Dipper snarled. He held up one claw tipped hand, claws long and needle sharp and dripping with demon blood, to point at the man, knowing he was being dramatic and he didn't care. A flick of his free hand soundproofed the closet door, made sure the kids inside wouldn't be coming out before he was done. “N̕͘͞ơ ̸m͞o̡͢͟r͡e ͟͞t̛al̕͞k̨̧͟in̷̛g̸͡.̷ ̷Nơ̴͟ ̡̡҉m͘͘or͟͡e̕͠ ̷͏ę҉x̷̵͏cus̕é͡s̵.͠” He grinned, full of teeth and inhuman. “Y̡o͘͘͟u̢҉̀'̢r͘҉e̷̷ ̷̷͟m̴̴͡iń͞͝ȩ̴́ n̴ǫ͢͞w̸.͠ ”

 

 

He had been a demon long enough to not feel ill when he came back fully to himself, and to not feel particularly guilty over what he'd done either. With what these people had planned for these kids...yeah. He felt guilty for enough things, this wasn't going to be one of them.

 

But he could count the souls he had just eaten as proper payment for retrieving the kids, which settled the pit of his stomach that had been twisting and growling over the unspecified bargain and what he'd be getting out of it. The teens would still have to give him  _ something  _ more, but it would be much less now that he'd...had his fill.

 

He was about to open the door and let the kids out of the closet before remembering the mess he'd made. He glanced back over his shoulder and winced, cleaning himself off with a thought before blipping all three of them to the basement.

 

Aida and Mary Ellen rushed each other as soon as the three were in the basement, clutching each other like siblings, relieved enough not to comment on how Alcor got her down there.

 

Dipper did a quick head count, satisfied that  _ this _ time, all the kids were here. They looked up at him in a mix of shyness and fear, a few of the braver ones coming closer.

 

“Can we go home now?” one of them asked, brave enough to tug at the tails of Dipper's coat.

 

A brief flicker across his senses told Dipper another adult, one of the few left, had found the mess he'd left upstairs. With a flicker of a wing he locked the doors, trapping the adults inside the building.

 

He'd have to come back and make sure the police knew where the place was so they could take care of it. For now...

 

“Yeah. Let's get you back to your siblings,” he said, wings flaring wide to cover all the kids. “Let's get you home.”

 

 

Ten years later, and there were some very familiar faces around the circle at the first proper Cult of Dippingsauce summoning Dipper had felt in decades

 

He may have been incapable of getting headaches, but he could almost swear he felt one trying to form as the former kids he'd rescued grinned at him with varying levels of glee and sheepishness.


	41. The One Percent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I would like a fic about one of those lifestyles of the rich and famous shows, the ones that intrudes on parties and crashes events, to make an episode on Pacifica Northwest. Except when they arrive at the party she isn't there. So they follow her trail and find her in a different party. The Pines Family Reunion party with full attendance from the wisps and dinner crew and the friendly neighborhood uber demon Alcor
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/117862543778/i-would-like-a-fic-about-one-of-those-lifestyles

 

“Greetings, everyone! Robin Leech here, with _“The One Percent”!_ Today we're looking into the life of famous supernatural rights activist and rich woman extraordinaire, Pacifica Northwest! We're outside the famous Northwest mansion on the night of their annual ball, for a closer look inside this young woman's amazing life!”

 

The host kept grinning until the camera clicked off, immediately dropping it and ruffling through the papers their assistant handed them. “Okay, that's the opening sting filmed...let's see...”

 

“All that's left is getting new footage of Ms. Northwest,” their assistant said, pointing to the sections left open. “An interview if possible, and we were hoping to get her at the ball tonight.”

 

Robin grinned. “Okay everyone, get ready to crash another snooty party!”

 

 

Crash successful (though the Northwest security was surprisingly...lax, like they'd given up on keeping people out of the party or something...weird), the crew of  _The One Percent_ mingled as unobtrusively as possible, looking for Pacifica Northwest. They'd make their presence known once they found her.

 

A half hour into the party, the crew met in the cloakroom, as planned.

 

Robin growled in frustration as negative report after report came in. “Dammit, where could she be?”

 

One of the camerapeople raised a shy hand and said, “I heard some people gossiping about how Ms. Northwest never attends anymore. Something about another party she goes to. Of course, it was in a lot more negative language than that, like they think it's beneath them to even know about it, but...”

 

“But it's a lead. Good job. See about getting that man a bonus,” Robin added in an undertone to her assistant, who nodded and silently made a note on her ever present clipboard.

 

 

The crew headed into town, trying to make discreet inquires into another party being held.

 

For some reason, the few townspeople they could find were willing to admit that a party was being held, and where (the Stanley Pines Memorial Library of the Supernatural, of all places...who held  _parties_ at a  _library_ ?) but each and every one warned them against trying to crash it.

 

Like they hadn't heard  _that_ before.

 

 

Still, they were more cautious than usual as they made their way towards the Library. This was Gravity Falls, after all – no telling what the townsfolk were actually warning them against.

 

 

They heard the sound before they saw the building – a raucous mix of talking, laughter, and music that shook the forest. Quite literally, as the leaves vibrated around them as they kept to the foliage.

 

A few of them exchanged confused glances – this certainly wasn't the type of party someone like a Northwest would usually be caught dead even thinking of – while the rest just rolled with it.

 

Rich people could be weird...though enough money meant they were called 'eccentric' instead, and indulged instead of ostracized.

 

Then they got close enough to see into the clearing that housed the Library, and Robin was immediately elbowing them to “Start rolling,  _now! Hurry!_ ”

 

The camerapeople fumbled their cameras into position as fast as they could, several of them already rolling on the scene of chaos in front of them.

 

There was...everything, down in that clearing. Trolls, pixies, fairies, gnomes, selkies, some kind of minotaur thing...name it and there was at least one mingling with the crowd. Mixed in were quite a few humans, too, including several ridiculously tall redheads brief consultation decided were Don Pines, Wendy Corduroy, Acacia and Willow Pines, a tiny brunette that _had_ to be the infamous Mabel Pines, and briefly they wondered if this was why they'd been warned away – a meeting of this many powerful people had to mean trouble.

 

But...despite all the propaganda they'd always heard, the 'facts' about how no two types of supernatural could stand to be in the same space as another, let alone around humans...the party was in full, joyful swing, without so much as a single frown to be seen. They were dancing, singing, eating...

 

The tables along the edges were groaning under the food and drink piled on them, and there was a small stage next to the building, where...

 

“Someone get a camera on that stage _now!_ ” Robin hissed, and three different cameras swung to focus on it as the rest kept rolling on the rest of the party.

 

Because on that stage was Pacifica Northwest, and she was singing her heart out, dancing along to the beat next to a short, brown haired man in formal wear more appropriate to the party she'd run from than the party Pacifica was at, with some kind of long, pointy ears and little wings on his back.

 

Then he opened his eyes and Robin heard quite a few of her crew hiss in shock.

 

_Pacifica Northwest was singing karaoke with Alcor the freaking Dreambender!_

 

_And everyone in the party was acting like it was totally normal!_

 

Okay so it looked like Northwest was more than a little buzzed, to Robin's expert eye, and she was suspicious of Alcor and his blood-alcohol levels (Did demons have blood-alcohol levels? Could demons even  _get_ drunk? Because Alcor was doing a good job of faking it if he wasn't...) but they still were acting far more familiar with each other than any of them would have thought, supernatural rights activist or not.

 

Then Pacifica slung an arm around Alcor's shoulder, the demon laughing and his free hand going around her waist and he planted a kiss on her cheek to the hissing disbelief of cast and crew but largely ignored by the party participants, save some cat calls and teasing.

 

Robin's assistant cleared her throat, quietly. “We're...not going to be able to use any of this, are we.”

 

“...no one would ever believe us.”

 

 

(They were discovered half an hour later and dragged down into the party, lectured by a quiet, utterly terrifying pair of tall redheads, and fed until they were fit to burst.

 

Robin counted it as a win, especially when she got her interview not only with Pacifica Northwest but with Mizar as well.

 

She wasn't quite brave enough to go after Alcor, despite his hovering in the background and providing snarky commentary.

 

...aside from the occasional question, that is. Not even pants-wetting terror was going to make her pass that opportunity up.)


	42. Apocalypse Averted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone tries to "awaken the dread God Alcor" and cause some armageddon, as you do. Alcor shows up in a dressing gown and bunny slippers, berates the summoner for interrupting his beauty sleep, and teleports him to the nearest supernatural authorities with his crime written in glowing gold ink over his head.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/118166913438/someone-tries-to-awaken-the-dread-god-alcor-and

 

It had been nearly fifty years since the Dread God Alcor, Ruler of Nightmares, the Reality Warper, and owner of a dozen more titles, had last been seen.

 

But that wasn't going to stop The Followers of the Dreams. No, they knew their God was powerful, too powerful to be gone just because of a mere fifty years.

 

The time was ripe – a triple conjunction of lunar eclipse, super moon, and harvest moon was happening tonight, resulting in the rare Blood Moon, a perfect time to wake their God that he might bring about Chaos and Destruction, leaving his Worthy and Most Faithful to rule in his stead.

 

Plus, everyone had been able to get off work for the night. Surely it was a Sign!

 

The candles were in place, the circle gone over five times by five different pairs, the offerings and sacrifice ready, and speeches ready.

 

The time had come and the end of the world was nigh, where the Chosen Few would finally have their Rightful Due!

 

 

Dipper had just laid down (more like fell over, if he was being honest) when he felt the yank of a summons. Groaning, he rolled over and tried to ignore it and felt the pull get stronger.

 

Great. One of  _those_ summons.

 

Huffing, he didn't bother to move as he answered it.

 

At this point, they could deal with what they got.

 

 

The shadows gathered in the circle, the flames of the candles sputtering out and resurging back with blue flames, and The Followers leaned forward eagerly to watch their God manifest.

 

When the shadows cleared, the circle still looked empty, and disappointment began to fill the room until a demonic voice said, from the level of the floor, “ Wh͝o͢ dare̸s͡ ͞ya̴d̶da͜ ̕y͟a̶d͘da͢. W̕hatty̨a ͜w͏a͘n̨t̢? ”

 

There was a collective pause as The Followers had to attempt to reset their brains at the sight of The Great Alcor lying sprawled in their circle, eyes closed, hair mussed, wearing what appeared to be...a soft, fuzzy robe and...bunny...slippers? Over...pajamas...printed with...little black sheep?

 

“Oh Dread Alcor,” their leader began, voice shaky and hesitant, pausing when Alcor cracked open a single eye to glare, sleepy and unfocused, in their general direction, “We...we have called upon you, that you might, with your unimaginable power, bring upon us all the true glory that you deserve. We...”

 

Alcor yawned, displaying two full sets of sharklike teeth and forked tongue, waving a hand languidly at them in a 'hurry it up' gesture. As the Chosen Leader resumed their speech, still thrown by Alcor's unexpected appearance and actions, Alcor slowly floated upwards from his sprawl on the ground until he was mostly upright and hovering a foot or two off the floor, yawning and stretching.

 

He shoved messy, sleep tangled hair out of his face, and glared at them sleepily. “ Y̕ea̷h...̕I don't ̛hav͠e tim͟é for̀ th͝is.͢ Th̨e kid͘s a̢re̢ ̢gón͠n̨a ͟wake҉ u͡p͠ so͢o͞n̵ ͏a͘n͠d ͜Í ńe͠ed͡ my͘ bea͘ut͞y ̷sl̶ee͟p͠, ” he muttered. “Le͢t'̶s g̵et͘ ́this͡ ́ov̴er wìt̴h.” He held out a hand wreathed in blue flame, saying, “I͏'l̵l̵ ̀e͟ven go ̢eas͞y on yo͜u͢. ͜En̡er̀g̢y̛ ̶for͝ t͝he ̀sl̴eep I'҉m ̀missing ̧in͝ ̛ex͞ch͢a̸ng̶e̢ ͢f͢o̷r you g͏etti̛n̨g͠ ҉wh́a̛t y̶ou͢'ve̶ ̸e͠ar͞néd̡ ̧f̴r͏om t̵h҉is͏ ̢s͟u̸mm͜o̷ns̶,͘ ̡a̸s͘ p͠er y͠o͏ur͟ ̴re͜qu̷e͞st̢.͠ ͏Déa̡ĺ?̷ ”

 

Their leader took the outstretched hand as The Followers of the Dream beamed, cheering. Mighty Alcor had heard their prayers, and soon all would be as it should be!

 

Alcor grinned, snapping his fingers, and the world went black.

 

 

Dipper arraigned the last cultists to his liking, floating back to inspect his work. They'd wake up in an hour or so, plenty of time for the cops to come outside. A snap of fingers left gold letters on the wall over their heads, spelling out “We summoned Alcor to cause an Apocalypse.”

 

He had a somewhat loose arrangement with a couple of cops here, which basically was the entire supernatural division. They'd take his word for it, and investigate accordingly.

 

With a satisfied little nod, he blipped back home. He hadn't been kidding about the kids waking up soon – and two three year olds, a five year old, and an eight year old combined were a match even for a demonic babysitter.

 

Better get back before they woke up and caused more chaos than he could deal with.

 

But hey – at least now he didn't need that nap anymore.


	43. Modeling Deals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zendria asked: I've got this horribly silly idea in my head: Somewhere along the line, a student majoring in photography (not a reincarnation, just a random person) has this whole vision about a project of theirs, but it requires weird lighting and a model with inhuman eyes because reasons, but sclera contacts are too expensive for a poor college student, so they just straight-up summon Alcor and ask him to be their model. He actually agrees to it, the photos come out great, and the student aces the project.  
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/119836447346/ive-got-this-horribly-silly-idea-in-my-head

Photography was Killian's passion, his reason for life, his  _everything._

 

Which was a Bad Thing in the eyes of his parents (who had very old-fashioned ideas about what was Acceptable Behavior and Interests for People of Certain Genders) and the reason he was currently living in the cheapest option for photography students.

 

All the restrictions, the near cut-off situation (because his parents weren't about to pay for any of this, but wouldn't let him starve – even if it came with conditions – like listening to the hour long lecture on Proper Masculine Ambitions) it would all be worth it once he had that degree.

 

But it wasn't going to happen unless he came up with something utterly spectacular for his final project, if only for the sake of his pride. He refused to have gone through all this and then turn in something less than his very best.

 

Killian could visualize what he wanted to do, and it would be amazing, he just knew it would. If only he could figure out how in the cock-a-doodie world he was going to make it happen!

 

It would take special, fancy lighting, and sets, fancy costumes and, worst of all, cosmetics – contacts, specifically, and sclera contacts at that – that were just plain out of his current price range, and out of the budget range of anyone else he knew, except maybe his parents, who would never pay for such a thing.

 

Just about everything he could manage except for the make up, those ridiculously expensive contacts, and the lighting. And he was out of ideas.

 

Sighing, he threw himself onto the (third or fourth hand) couch in the studio/kitchen/workroom he and his friends shared and threw an arm over his eyes dramatically.

 

The over-dramatic motion knocked Alyssa's demonology textbook over from its perch on the back of the couch, and it landed on his face. He sputtered and grabbed it, yanking it off his face and glaring at it before his eye was caught by an artist rendering of Alcor the Dreambender.

 

He gaped at the picture for a few seconds, letting out a long, slow breath before skimming the text. Eyes lighting up with ideas, he scrambled off the couch, reaching for his tablet computer. He needed to do some research right away.

 

 

A week later, and Killian was pretty sure he had everything covered. When everything was ready (and wow did Killian owe a lot of favors now) he lit the candles, checked the circle one last time, took a deep breath and recited the incantation he'd found online, on the Cult of Dippingsauce website (chosen since Alcor actually seemed to like them, so maybe he'd go easy on someone using their version of a summon) and tossed the candy they recommended as a sacrifice into the circle.

 

When Alcor swirled into existence inside the circle, Killian was terrified, but over that was the need to grab his camera, which was exactly what he did.

 

Because holy magic but that was amazing and the  _lighting!_ And those  _shadows_ and the  _smoke_ and the contrast and...Alcor was watching him oddly now, arms crossed and eyebrow raised as Killian sheepishly rose from his crouch.

 

“ ...̡Wha͟t̵...? ” Alcor said, watching Killian with gold on black eyes, as Killian took another moment to get a proper look at the demon he'd called.

 

Those eyes were  _ perfect _ . And the fire...blue fire, just like he'd imagined when he'd pictured this series, and the suit...and the amazing eyes were starting to glare. Killian coughed into his hand and shuffled in place, embarrassed at getting carried away, before starting to ramble, like he always did when nervous despite numerous lectures on the subject.

 

“Um, so, yeah, greetings, um, oh Dreambender. I bet you're wondering why I summoned you, well I, that is...ahm.” Alcor was getting bored, eyes drifting over the studio, and Killian panicked. “I want you to model for me!”

 

Alcor paused, looking at Killian blankly, and he rushed to fill the silence before Alcor could get offended and leave. “I've been trying to find a model that looks like you, with the eyes and the fire and the rest, but I can't afford contacts or fancy lighting, and you're perfect for this series, no really I mean it you look  _ amazing _ and I got my friend to make you an ice cream cake with your symbol on it – at least I hope it's your symbol, I got it off the Cult of Dippingsauce website – and they said you liked ice cream on it, and so I wanted to offer you that and copies of the pictures if you'd pose for me?”

 

Alcor was still staring at him silently, and Killian was sure any second now he was going to start laughing, find some way to twist this around to make him regret this, and this was such a bad idea and... “What kind of ice cream cake?”

 

Killian had to pause and reset his brain at the question, taking a few seconds to blink at Alcor. “...Pardon?”

 

“What kind of ice cream?” Alcor repeated, mildly amused though still apparently a bit confused, but figuring it out quickly.

 

“I'm...not really sure, I think it's vanilla and chocolate, but she's learning to be a professional, so...it's in the freezer, do you want to see it?”

 

Alcor waved it off. “Payment after we shake on it. Oh, and you'd better not be expecting nudes, there isn't enough ice cream in the world for that.”

 

Killian waved his hands frantically, denials pouring from his mouth. Yes, he'd worked with nude photos before (and quite honestly, wouldn't have said no if Alcor had wanted to do a few, because hoo boy) but A. they weren't part of his vision for this project and B. he really, really didn't want to upset Alcor by even suggesting them.

 

“No no it's supposed to be about the fire and the eyes and the lighting there's no need to do nudity unless you want to, not going to ask that just for ice cream cake, the suit's awesome, really classy, we can stick with the suit!”

 

Now Alcor really did look amused, smirking a little as he floated closer to the edge of the circle. “I think we can discuss costumes separately, so long as there are some. I can be flexible. So. One photo shoot, with veto power on costumes and the like, for an ice cream cake, copies of the pictures, and keeping the identity of your model secret. Deal?”

 

“You'll listen to my ideas and not just veto things without discussing? And won't try to...I don't know, decorate it with my blood or something?” Killian asked hesitantly, trying to think if there was something horrible he wasn't covering. “And what are your feeling on topless shots?” Alcor smiled, a surprisingly human expression, and held out a hand covered in blue flame.

 

“D͘ea̴l͡. And we'll talk about that.”

 

 

Killian was surprised how well the photoshoot turned out – and how many more pictures Alcor was willing to sit for once he broke out the really fun costumes and the Pitt Cola and candy stash his Grams had sent him.

 

Alcor the Dreambender was nostalgic (and willing to make deals) for Pitt Cola and candy and a chance to play dress up with awesome costumes. Who would've guessed?

 

 

Killian hid in the corner of the gallery, beaming as he sipped his drink. Not only had he aced the project, but everyone  _ loved _ it, and he won the chance to be featured in an actual gallery! This was the best night ever!

 

Suddenly bracketed by warm bodies, Killian froze before rolling his eyes. “Hello, ladies,” he said warily to the two grinning women trapping him in the corner.

 

They grinned, his best friends slinging arms around his shoulders even as they balanced their own drinks.

 

“So, I take it the model worked out?” Alyssa, whose demonology notes he'd borrowed, asked. Killian peeked around the wall they made around him to make sure no one could hear before he answered her, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he remembered that photoshoot and handing the photos over to Alcor later – dude was surprisingly chill and interesting to talk to.

 

“Better than expected,” he said simply. “Must be having a good run, if you catch my drift.” Both women nodded – Allison may not have had her sister's interest in demons, but Alyssa spread her interests about enough for all their friends to know details – like the theory about how Alcor seemed to go through periods of something that came near humanity.

 

“What about my cake?” Ally demanded, giving Killian a gentle elbow to the side.

 

“It was delicious,” said a new voice from Ally's other side, and they looked in confusion at the short, brown haired man in the very formal, old-fashioned suit who was watching them with amused brown eyes as he took a sip of his drink.

 

It took Killian a minute, but the amusement in those eyes was what finally gave him away. “Al-” he started to hiss, only to be cut off.

 

“Tyrone, while I'm like this,” Alcor said, gesturing toward his human eyes. “How could I miss this?” he asked, smirking as he gestured toward the milling crowd. “I haven't been this popular in centuries, maybe my entire life. Which is likely only since they don't know who the model is, but still.”

 

“And you might just get mobbed if folk find out you're the model,” Alyssa teased, and Alcor looked blank until she lightly punched him in the shoulder, to Killian's horrified hiss. “Dude, they think you're human and hot. You should be working it.”

 

Alcor looked a little flustered at that, and Alyssa laughed, latching onto his arm. “Now, how about you praise my sister's cake skills some more? And what did Killian bribe you with for some of those shots? Like the topless ones?”

 

Killian had to give Alcor this much – he recovered quickly. “Well, if that's all you want, that I can give,” he said, grinning.

 

They walked off, chatting amicably, and Killian felt a chill run down his spine.

 

Those three together were going to make his life...interesting...from now on, he just knew it.

 

He wasn't quite sure if he was excited or terrified of that prospect.

 

...it was just one project, how'd it end up like this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ally is a Soos reincarnation, and Alyssa is Wendy's, that snuck their way in. Killian is someone Dipper's never met before in any incarnation.


	44. Baby Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, but if most of Soos and Melody's kids are older than the triplets doesn't that mean teen Mabel and Dipdops with itty bitty children?? Because now I need teen Mabel (with a dash of Dipper the dork) babysitting the kids while Melody and Soos have some alone time. I really need aunt Mabel (and Grunkle Stan the unofficial grandpa pfft)
> 
> Mabel “hold him” Pines
> 
> Dipper “OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD” Pines
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/124272825115/okay-but-if-most-of-soos-and-melodys-kids-are

 

It had only taken about six months after little Osa was born for Melody and Soos to realize they wanted to live in Gravity Falls permanently, rather than keep going between it and Portland.

 

Sure, Portland had been Melody's home for most of her life, and it always would be special for both of them, but...in Gravity Falls there was a chance for Soos to create his own business and have Osa grow up knowing supernatural creatures as his friends, neighbors, playmates.

 

More importantly, Gravity Falls had family, most of it not related by blood but just as close, if not closer, and willing to do pretty much anything to keep him safe.

 

So who better to watch little Osa for them then his adopted aunt, demonic uncle and honorary grandpa when Mom and Papi needed a little time to themselves?

 

 

Dipper hovered in the background as Melody handed Osa to Mabel, wringing his hands as he looked down at the blanket wrapped bundle.

 

He just didn't get why they trusted him, of all peop...whatever, to watch their baby. Yeah, he was there for the birth, but...that didn't mean he was capable of babysitting!

 

It was too late to back out now, he'd already been given the candy to seal the deal – help Mabel (and Stan) watch Osa for the evening. Despite this probably being a horrible idea, it was happening. Maybe he could just sort of hover near the ceiling and 'watch' the baby from there...

 

Mabel, at eighteen, was more than ready to watch the baby, and was already cooing at her nephew. She didn't get near enough time to with the baby in her opinion, so she was near bursting at the seams with glee.

 

She carried Osa around the Shack with her as she helped Grunkle Stan turn it into a library, sorting through books and talking to Osa the whole time as he nestled against her chest in the Huggy Wuggy Tummy Bundle, the baby constantly looking around with wide, curious eyes.

 

The baby giggled and cooed as Mabel asked him his opinions on books, and chortled as Mabel rubbed her cheek against the top of his head and kissed him between shelving books.

 

Dipper watched from above, glad Mabel was willing to do most of the actual baby watching and handling. So far, his plan was working fairly well, if he did say so himself.

 

Then Mabel shelved the last book before she stood up and glanced at her brother. Taking Osa out of the baby sling, she held him out toward her currently physical brother, grinning. “Here, hold him,” she said.

 

Dipper sputtered and flailed and Mabel rolled her eyes while Grunkle Stan laughed at them both. She dragged Dipper down to their level and thrust the baby into Dipper's arms. He grabbed the baby automatically, terrified of dropping him. Mabel adjusted his arms to hold Osa properly even as Dipper's wings flicked and batted the air in panic.

 

“Mabel this is a bad idea I'm going to scratch him or hurt him or something is going to happen this is seriously a bad idea take him back oh my god take him back,” Dipper babbled, as Osa stared up at the strange person holding him curiously.

 

Apparently Osa liked what he saw, since he giggled and grabbed for Dipper's bow tie a few seconds later.

 

“There, see, he likes you. Hold your nephew while I get his bottle ready,” Mabel said, not bothering to hold back her triumphant smile as she left the room.

 

Dipper looked toward his Grunkle pleadingly, who laughed at him, though not as unsympathetically as he could have. “You gotta learn sometime, kid,” he grunted, standing and stretching. He ambled across the room to the odd pair of demon and baby, but instead of taking the baby like Dipper had hoped, chucked little Osa under the chin to make him laugh and ruffled the light hair covering his head. “Your uncle's trying, kid,” he said. “Make him work for it.”

 

Speechless, Dipper watched his Grunkle leave the room, heading for the kitchen and his sister. He looked down at the baby in his arms, who had started waving tiny fists in the air and giggling at the silly person holding him.

 

He loved this child so much already, and he knew Mabel had adored him ever since she'd first laid eyes on him. They'd never expected to be able to be an aunt or uncle after the Transcendence, all things considered (especially Mabel, who'd always wanted to be an aunt along with a mother but hadn't said anything, rather than hurt her brother with the reminder) but now...

 

Carefully, Dipper freed a hand, tracing a bent finger with the claw blunted so far it was nearly back to being a human nail down a soft, soft cheek.

 

This was still a phenomenally bad idea, and all he could see was how easy it would be for something to go wrong and accidentally hurt this tiny, fragile human in his arms, that was looking up at him with the love and trust only the very young had.

 

He looked up almost shyly when the door opened. Mabel leaned against the door, grinning smugly. “Told you you could do it, broseph,” she said. “Now gimmie, it's noms time.”

 

She almost snatched the baby back from his arms, jogging away as Dipper followed, laughing and protesting as she sang “I got me a ba-by, gonna have some num-nums...”

 

 

Clean, warm, and fed, little Osa slept contentedly in Mabel's arms, wrapped in the onesie she had just finished knitting for him that morning.

 

She was smiling down at the baby, but there was a tinge of sadness to it, as she wondered if she'd ever get to have one of her own.

 

Most people she had dated – or even tried to befriend – had run when they learned about Dipper.

 

She glanced up at her brother, who was still staring at the baby with a mix of “oh god I can't believe they left him with us” and “oh god he's so cute” and possessiveness and love for his unofficial nephew.

 

Her eyes drifted back down to her nephew, and a thousand 'maybe's. For now, she just cuddled him close.

 

 

A few years later, and Osa was seven, and had two little shadows.

 

Ford was five and Flora four, and they followed their big brother around like ducklings and their mama, which Mabel thought was the cutest thing.

 

Their imitation of their older brother was why Mabel was totally going to win this race, since she had a seven year old on her shoulders, cheering her on, while Dipper had to balance a no-less enthusiastic kid on each hip.

 

Then again, they seemed more enthused about the flying than the race, but Mabel and Osa were totally kicking Dipper's butt at this.

 

It was a good thing they were in Gravity Falls, where no one looked twice at the demon carrying two squealing kids flying down the sidewalk in hot pursuit of his laughing twin carrying another cheering kid.

 

Mabel and Osa hit the front of the ice cream shop and danced in place, laughing, as Dipper pulled up behind them, sticking his tongue (forked, because it made the kids laugh) out at them.

 

Then Ford and Flora caught sight of Grunkle Stan, waiting for them inside, and scrambled down from Dipper's arms to run inside with cries for their “Pap-pap!”

 

Mabel spun once more to hear Osa squeal with joy, grinning as widely as the child. “Onward, to ice cream!” she cheered, leading the way into the store.

 

She had this aunt thing down – load the kids up on sugar and excitement, then let the parents have them back when they were all worn out.

 

Good thing she still had more energy than the kids did.

 

 

As they were eating, Osa was eying his uncle. Suddenly he tugged on Mabel's sleeve, whispering into her ear, and her grin slowly grew to match his gap toothed smile of pure mischief.

 

 

As soon as their ice cream was gone, Mabel scooped Osa up again and, giggling, held him up far enough for him to grab Dipper's hat. Osa popped it on his own head and the two of them were off, Mabel sprinting down the sidewalk with Osa tight in her arms.

 

Dipper let out a yelp and started chasing them down the street, yelling for them to give it back, all of them laughing (or cackling, in Mabel's case) the whole way.

 

Behind them, they could hear Stan cackling and urging them all, the two younger kids cheering both on indiscriminately, and people starting to take bets.

 

Yep. Just a normal day in Gravity Falls.

 

And Dipper had been worried about the whole 'uncle' thing. _Honestly._ Her brother was such a goober sometimes.


	45. Dungeons and Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Now I really want a trancendence au fic about people playing dd&d and accidentally summoning Alcor through some very accurate world building maps on the dm’s part. And initially their all like ‘plz don’t kill us!’ And Alcor like ‘only if I can join u’ and then they become part of a weekly game group or somethign idk  
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/133200480563/type40-awesmazing-now-i-really-want-a

 

“You enter the darkened room. It's lit by flickering candles,” Mark said, clapping the lights off in his living room so the game was lit by the candles he'd set around for atmosphere.

 

“Using the clapper really ruins the mood,” Adam commented, deliberately ignored by Mark as he continued setting the scene.

 

Rolling his eyes, Adam dug more candy out of the bowl on the table, set in the middle of drifts of paper, scattered dice, and the occasional miniature.

 

“On the floor you see a summoning circle,” Mark said, putting a piece of paper down on the table next to the candy bowl. “It looks like it's drawn in blood, and the scent of old blood is heavy in the room.”

 

“Hey, is that...” someone started to say, drowned out as Mark continued his setup.

 

“Think he's actually dumb enough to use a real circle?” Noah muttered to Adam. “I'm getting some Mountain Dew, anyone want some?” they added a little louder.

 

No one, least of all Noah, noticed the candy that missed the bowl and fell onto the circle when they tossed it back into the bowl on their way to the kitchen.

 

“You hear chanting, in Latin.  **_ Stella splendida, te invoco. Te invoco ut facias voluntatem meam. Dico nomen tuum: Alcor! _ ** ** ” ** Mark intoned, trying to sound scary. It didn't work, since he was about as threatening as a wet noodle, but he tried.

 

“Dude, are you serious!” Dillian said, clapping the lights back on. “That's a real chant! I heard it in demonology class, even!”

 

“Come on, it's a old one,” Mark said defensively. “He probably doesn't even answer to it anymore, anyway.”

 

As if to taunt them, the lights flickered, papers and dice rattling as the table shook. Adam and Dillian started to curse as they toppled out of their chairs, backing away from the table. A curl of smoke rose from the paper, growing in size until it touched the ceiling. Within the smoke, a pair of glowing golden eyes blinked open over a slowly materializing cheshire grin, the rest of the body coalescing out of the smoke around them.

 

Fully formed, Alcor the Dreambender hovered over their table and maps, grinning.

 

“W͢H҉O DA҉RE̵S – hey is that Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons?” the demon hovering over their map suddenly asked, bending over a little to get a closer look.

 

“ _Doesn't answer to it anymore,_ huh?” Dillian hissed at Mark, who was staring at the demon in dumbstruck fear.

 

The demon – Alcor the Dreambender, if the chant had called up the one it was meant for – straightened while they stared.

 

In the doorway between the kitchen and living room, Noah dropped the Mountain Dew. Just before the two liter smashed to the floor, a blue nimbus surrounded the bottle.

 

It floated over to be grasped in a gloved hand. Alcor watched them with tilted head and waiting, curious, somewhat resigned eyes, clawed finger tapping the side of the bottle. “You...didn't mean to summon me, did you,” he said rather than asked. He sounded somewhere between amused and annoyed, as if this happened far more often than he'd like.

 

“Please don't kill us,” Noah squeaked.

 

“Hmmm...I suppose I could let you live,” Alcor said considerately. “In ęx̢c̶ha͠ng̛e ̶f̨o͘r͢ ̷joi̧nįn̴g your̢ D͡,̸D҉,̴ a͠ǹd̸ ̧Mǫre͢ ̀D͞ ̧cam̀p͡ai͞gn.̴ Oh, and this Mountain Dew. Man, it's been ages since anyone gave me Mountain Dew.”

 

“...you _like_ D, D, and More D?” Adam asked faintly and Alcor grinned, showing wickedly sharp teeth.

 

“It's only _my favorite game in the world!_ ” Alcor said happily, wings flapping in time as he nearly danced in the air, holding out a flaming fist to a trembling Mark. He dropped down to land in an unoccupied chair with a thump as soon as Mark gingerly tapped his fist against the waiting demonic one. “But don't tell people, we don't need a resurgence of the whole 'D, D, & More D is demonic' crap,” he added grouchily. “Some people...”

 

“Um...okay,” Mark said hesitantly, digging out an extra character sheet and carefully handing it over. “Let's...get back to the game, I guess.”

 

 

Alcor ate a lion's share of the snacks (claiming he needed it as sacrifices to keep corporeal) but otherwise was surprisingly fun to play with, to their general relief.

 

Plus, he knew rules and loopholes they'd never heard of.

 

 

The next week, the foursome started their game, relieved that there wouldn't be any demonic appearances without intended invitation this time.

 

They got about a half hour into the game before Dillian sighed. “I hate to say it, but this was kind of more fun with Alcor here,” he said.

 

“...I'm getting more snacks,” Noah said. “Mark, you get him here while I grab 'em.”

 

If anything, Alcor looked almost stunned and confused to be summoned a second time, when the first had been such an obvious mistake. Sheepishly, Noah held up the unopened 2 liter of Mountain Dew and bag of snacks as Mark said, “We...kind of didn't finish the game. These enough for you to stick around and play?”

 

Alcor's grin was brighter than the flames his hand was wreathed in.

 

 

After two months, the summons for snacks and a game was an open invitation, and Alcor showed up every week without circle or chant.

 

 

After five, they were comfortable enough in Alcor's presence on game nights that it took them a minute to remember they had to watch who they invited, since they did have a demon coming to play regularly.

 

 

A year later, Dillian paused in the middle of a game as a thought occurred to him. “Wait, shit...are we a cult now?”

 

Alcor's laughter was the only answer they got.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to tonithelibrarian, who beta read this for me and helped fix it up. :D


	46. Demon of Sweets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kid summoning Alcor and asking for Smile Dip because they've heard so many urban legends about it and they just HAVE to try it and Alcor just laughs maniacally because yes this is what it means to be a demon hellbent in chaos: giving children Smile Dip and watching the fireworks ensue. (He even gives the kid the real deal instead of a 'slightly tweaked' more powerful version, he's just that giddy about it.) (I imagine he'd get the title of Demon of Sweets somewhere along the line that dork)
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/104838231288/a-kid-summoning-alcor-and-asking-for-smile-dip

 

Dipper swirled into corporeality, foregoing his usual dramatics but still keeping the smoke and eeriness. This summon had the clumsy feel to it of a child's summon, awkward and imprecise and not near strong enough to be safe, and he wanted to frighten the kid a little, maybe make them rethink summoning demons, not traumatize them for life.

 

Not yet, at least.

 

The kid on the other side of the circle looked appropriately nervous yet determined, clenching their hands as they stared up at the demon they'd called.

 

Dipper, still floating a good foot above the ground, bent so he could look the kid in the eye, grinning the whole time. “Okay, kid, lay it on me. This better be good,” he said, letting the reverb buzz under his voice but not full blown. “If it is, I _might_ let you skip the lecture on just why you shouldn't have done this.”

 

The kid (Dipper judged them around twelve, so still young enough he was going to go easy on them, old enough he wanted to make sure they didn't try this again and understand why this was a _bad idea_ ) swallowed and spoke up, voice trembling a little but speaking clearly. “Alcor, Demon of Sweets...” Dipper grinned at that, wings twitching with glee – he hadn't heard that title before, but he _liked_ it – and the kid paused for a second before continuing, momentarily put off by that reaction, “I...um...well, I heard the urban legends about a candy that was banned, because it was too powerful. Because it made you do things, like...like hear colors, and see things that weren't there, and have an energy rush more powerful than anything adults would let you near, if you ate enough. And I want to trade for it.”

 

They gestured toward a bag of candy on the floor next to them. “I have this candy to swap.”

 

Dipper tilted his head to get a better look at the candy and let out a low whistle. “Well, you certainly prepared for this,” he commented. “That's the good stuff. You do realize what a bad idea this all still was, though, right?”

 

The kid grimaced, and Dipper smirked. “Right, okay then. So long as you don't think me going easy on you means anything. No more summoning demons, you hear me? 'Cuz this circle wouldn't hold the Organ Duck, let alone a demon like me. Any other demon, and you'd be paying for that mistake in blood at best. Now, what's this legendary candy you want to trade for?”

 

“...the rumors called it Smile Dip.”

 

Dipper froze, eyes going huge, and the child watched with a sudden surge of fear. Was it really that forbidden, that it would freeze a demon like that? Did he just insult the demon that badly?

 

“Um...Mr. Alcor?”

 

Alcor still hadn't moved, but a small smile was starting to pull at the corners of his mouth. Still unmoving, with eyes gone huge and sparkling like something out of a cartoon, a smile far too large for a human mouth to manage spread across his face.

 

Then he reared his head back and cackled maniacally, punching the air with an ecstatic “YES!”, wings buzzing as he did a little celebration in midair.

 

He kept laughing, and the kid chuckled nervously, backing away from the circle. Then a huge box of Smile Dip appeared in the demon's hands and was tossed carefully toward the kid, who caught it with a cheer. They ripped it open to find pack after pack of Smile Dip inside, lined up tidily.

 

“Knock yourself out, kid!” Dipper crowed. “That's the original stuff, there. Full strength, enough for a few runs. You should share that with everyone you can.”

 

The kid beamed up at him, thanking him profusely before running out of the room, and faintly Dipper could hear them calling for their friends, yelling that “It worked! Check it out, guys!” and he cackled again as he collected his payment.

 

He slipped back into the mindscape, but not back home. Oh hell no. He sat back in midair, summoning up popcorn and got ready.

 

Because there were a good ten kids eating the Smile Dip by now, and there was no way he was going to miss _this._


	47. Flip Flop Dip Dop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't there that one fic with Mabel teaching Henry to summon Dipper and instead of the Latin incantation Mabel says "Where the flip-flop are you, Dip-dop" or something, so can we have some cult's reaction to the Woodsman summoning Alcor with that chant please
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/105108467643/prompt-wasnt-there-that-one-fic-with-mabel

 

 

Usually, Henry kept far away from the cult bashing. He worried about Mabel and the kids when they went out on their missions, but he had accepted his role as backup.

 

Today, though...he'd been reading in the living room while Mabel and Willow were at their conference when he got the feeling of something _wrong,_ and after that, well, one thing led to another, led to another, and neither Mabel or Stan were available to come handle this, and the kids weren't here, off in Bend or in Portland, and the grandkids were far too young to deal with this yet, and if someone didn't do something soon, it wasn't going to end well.

 

Now, standing in the clearing, branches twined with severed hands and feet rising from his head as he towered over the cultists, he wondered if he should have waited.

 

The crying child hiding behind his legs told his instincts, stronger now that he was the Woodsman, otherwise.

 

It was a little harder to think, sometimes, as the Woodsman, things coming more as instinct and reaction, but he still could.

 

Right now, the sapling wasn't his, not quite yet, but they needed protection. There were more hands hanging from his antlers now, blood fresh and raw, but still too many cultists for him to handle alone. And they were rallying, trying to find a way out of this.

 

He knew his mate couldn't come help, but their star could...if he could just remember the right words to call him here.

 

One part of him reminded him that the words were Latin, that he needed circle and offering and _time_ , while the other part knew he had a faster way.

 

Their star would understand.

 

There was enough blood on the ground already that the Woodsman didn't bother with pricking a finger, content to stand straighter and intone, in a voice that rattled the trees and made the cultists cover their ears in pain, “Where the flip-flop are you, Dip-dop?”

 

The cultists slowly dropped their hands, staring at him with incredulously. “Did he _really_ just say that?” someone asked, in tones of stunned disbelief.

 

“I didn't think The Woodsman was supposed to talk!”

 

“What the hell...”

 

The leader snarled. “Who cares, just get him! We'll use him as sacrifice along with the kid!”

 

The cultists began to move forward as Henry hefted his axe, ready to meet them. The child clutched at his leg tighter, watching through barely muffled sobs.

 

The clearing froze again when a plume of blue fire flared out of nothingness, burning away to leave Alcor the Dreambender hovering by The Woodsman.

 

“So̧rr͠y ͢I'm l͞a̕te̷,” he said as the cultists stared in disbelief. He paused, looking over the cultists with a sharp eye, glancing at the kid hiding behind Henry. “G͏o̶ on ̸ahead͝.̀ I'͟ll.̴.̀.̶t̴a̡k̶e͘ ͞c͘a͏r̷e͟ of̛ thi̕s̢,̀” he said.

 

Henry wanted to stay and help, not leave his brother alone, but...by now he knew that look in his brother's eye, and the child clutching his leg needed away from here right now.

 

He scooped up the child, longer than usual legs carrying them away with rapid strides before the sounds and sights of Dipper's fight, if it could be called that, could scar the child.

 

Though in all likelihood, this was probably going to be another of Willow's kids when all was said and done, and they'd get far to used to this far too quickly.

 

 

(They did end up as one of Willow's. And Henry wasn't all that surprised to hear them summoning their great uncle with a call of “Where the flip-flop are you dip-dop?”. If felt good to know some things were going to be carried on, and Henry tried to hide his laughter at Dipper's pretend huffiness at the informality.)


	48. Uncommonplace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mundane adventures of the Flock in Gravity Falls! Niblets riding them to the store, demonic petting zoo at the shack, finding and curling up with lost children in the woods, helping in the Library, being sent on errands round town... (sheep holding a note that says "2pts milk, 1 lb sugar" and a twenty dollar bill, baa-ing at the shop guy until he takes the money and puts the stuff in sheep's saddlebags)... sheep running up to tourists' kids begging for pettings and freaking the parents out...
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/129206136089/mundane-adventures-of-the-flock-in-gravity-falls
> 
> Vignettes of Everyday Flock

 

Jim tumbled out of the car as soon as it pulled to a stop, to his parent's amusement.

 

His dad went to check into the motel while his mom came around the car, leaning against it as he stared at the town around him

 

“See something you like, champ?” she said, and he grinned, huge and beaming, dancing in place with excitement. They were really here, in Gravity Falls, where the Transcendence happened!

 

This was _so cool!_

 

 

There were a pair of creatures in the middle of the sidewalk, just trotting down the pavement, like nothing Jim had ever heard about in any of the classes they'd started giving at school about the supernatural or online.

 

Jim stared at them in fascination, trying to watch and take notes at the same time, while his parents kept glancing at them, trying to pretend they weren't watching.

 

This was Gravity Falls. They'd known they'd see something out of the ordinary here, even if they were still getting used to the new ordinary – but none of them had ever heard of a creature quite matching these, or expected to see one walking down the street casual as you please, despite being told that's just how it was here.

 

It was...nice, if a little terrifying at the moment.

 

Then the smaller one spotted Jim and came trotting up to him, and Jim would have sworn it was bleating like a sheep.

 

It sort of looked like one, if you took away the extra sets of glowing red eyes and bonus sets of horns and small leathery wings. And squinted. While tilting your head.

 

But mostly a sheep.

 

Jim knew he was short, and that both these creatures were obviously magical, but having a sheep only a little over a foot shorter than his tiny four foot frame was taking things a bit far in his opinion.

 

Then it butted Jim on the shoulder, gently, breaking him from his study, and he laughed as it shoved its head under his hands to demand petting. In the background he heard his parents quietly freaking out, demanding softly, so it wouldn't get angry, that he get away from it, he had no idea what it was or what it wanted.

 

The taller one came trotting up as the owner of the grocery store they were standing next to – at least, Jim assumed he was the owner, since his nametag matched the name on the sign – came out to lean against the door.

 

“Oh, don't you worry 'bout them,” he said to Jim's parents. “Just some o' the Pines' families' sheep. They go everywhere in this town. Right helpful, they are. You folks around for a while? Next Ridin' Rally is this Saturday, whole town'll turn out for it. Like a truck rally, but with them sheep 'stead. It's quite the show.”

 

The second sheep had already trotted up to the man and butted him in the forearm as he was speaking, and Jim finally saw that the huge sheep was wearing saddlebags. A quick glance down showed that the one he was still petting had a set on, too.

 

“What's that, boy? Timmy's in the well?” the owner said, laughing as the sheep gave him the driest look Jim had ever seen. “Right, sorry. Let's see...” he said, waiting as the sheep rummaged in its saddlebag and held out a note. “More sugar? Man alive, that Mabel goes through more sugar than anyone I know...” he trailed off as he went inside, followed by the sheep.

 

It emerged a little while later, time Jim used to coax his parents to come closer to the first sheep and give it a few tentative pats, to its obvious smug delight.

 

The second sheep's saddlebags were bulging now, and it bleated at the other, who hung its head and trotted into the store, coming out quickly after with its bags obviously full now as well.

 

It baa-ed a farewell at Jim and his parents before the two of them trotted off back down the sidewalk, obviously heading home.

 

Jim watched them go sadly before rejoining his parents, wondering about these strange, supernatural sheep things and wishing he could learn more about them.

 

 

The noise he made when he found a whole flock of them trotting around the Stanley Pines Memorial Library was almost embarrassing.

 

Almost.

 

 

 

Some days, the Flock and their Master were feeling more playful than others. Some days, Stan could sweet talk them into helping make money at the Library (usually helped out by reminders of things the kids needed, that Stan would actually spend the money on, rather than one of his random moneymaking schemes).

 

And some days, researchers or tourists brought their kids along to the Library.

 

The days when both coincided, they got the Pines Library Petting Zoo of the Supernatural.

 

Stan looked it over with beaming pride. The parents were willing to pay a good bit for their kids to pet the strange creatures, with Henry's assurance that they were safe (Stan said the same thing, but for some reason the parents believed Henry more – likely due to the three children obviously belonging to him climbing all over the sheep).

 

If he could talk Dipper into bringing those Dreams of his into this they'd make a real killing – tiny, soft, fluffy lambs that looked like something out of a storybook would be a much bigger enticement than the adult sized sheep, with their horns and sharp teeth (hidden from the kids) but Dipper had put his foot down.

 

Well, more like Dipper put his foot down while the Nightmares pitched a giant fit, but same idea.

 

But it was pretty funny to watch a demonic sheep, who Stan knew for a fact could take down things bigger than the entire Library, letting three different kids crawl all over it, patient if a little disgruntled over the whole thing.

 

 

 

Lost kids in the woods were almost depressingly common around Gravity Falls.

 

The fact that this was where the Transcendence happened meant that more tourists came than ever before, from researchers and those seeking the truth to those seeking the quick thrill of standing where magic was released and seeing all the supernatural walking about with humans as equals.

 

But most of them underestimated just how big, how dangerous and how confusing the woods surrounding the small town could be. And with so many temptations in it...

 

They were lucky the number was as low as it was, all things considered. Didn't have to be happy about it, but lucky.

 

The nightmares needed a little boost to make it to the physical plane, but knowing their Master loved children as he did, they didn't need to be told what to do once he gave it to them.

 

They trotted off into the forest eagerly, baa-ing challenges to each other for who would be the first to find the missing kid this time.

 

 

Lolonja was the winner this time, to her own surprise.

 

She stumbled over the missing child, near literally. They were hiding in the roots of a tree, shaking and cold, and for a moment they reminded her of another terrified child, one who'd been this afraid but in much more pain the first time she'd seen him.

 

The child yelped when it caught sight of her, huddling against the tree until she stepped into the light.

 

She lowered her head and sniffed at them gently, and they held out a shaking hand. “N-nice sheep?” they asked, voice shaking. “Library sheep?”

 

Lolonja bleated an affirmative reply, nuzzling at the child's forehead and making them giggle. They toppled forward, burying their face in her wool and clutching, and she lowered herself to the ground, letting them snuggle closer, like a tired Dream.

 

The Master came all too soon, alerted by her call, to take the child back to its parents.

 

The child grumbled, protesting sleepily as her Master picked them up, and Lolonja bleated quietly.

 

The Master laid his hand on her head, smiling at her with love and pride that made Lolonja feel nine stories tall and ready to take on anything, making anything worth it.

 

“Good girl,” the Master said softly, still stroking her head affectionately as they began to float back to town.

 

Lolonja held her head higher than usual, keeping an eye on the child and sparkling with pride. She was a _good girl_ and she made the Master happy and the child, the little one sparking with happy dreams in the Master's arms, was happy and safe and warm.

 

Today was a good day in Lolonja's book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep forgetting, but I want to give a shoutout to torithelibrarian, who helped edit this chapter!


	49. Fire Alarm Anti Demon Charms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One time Alcor's firey entrance sets off the sprinkler system. Everyone starts screeching and gets out of the building, and when the cultists reconvene in the car park, all looking a bit wet, they realise that in the crowd is a bedraggled looking Alcor, who keeps sparking and fizzling out like damp wood instead of having blue and gold flames.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/103683122553/one-time-alcors-firey-entrance-sets-off-the

 

The shuffling and muttering was finally dying down, excitement and nerves turning the newly formed cult into something more akin to a classroom of excited kids rather than the dignified assembly they considered themselves to be.

 

But, well, they hadn't believed this sort of thing was possible just ten years ago, before the world went topsy-turvy and suddenly magic was everywhere. And now...well, just look at them!

 

Most of the members of this cult – more of a club than a group worthy of the name 'cult', but they thought it made them sound tougher – had been looking for the quick answer their whole lives, some kind of definite answer to their questions and proof of their superiority. A way to the top, to make everyone else understand just who they were, to have them bow and recognize the greatness that walked among them.

 

And maybe get whatever jerk at the office that was stealing lunches to quit. That would be a nice bonus.

 

Sure, summoning a demon probably wasn't the brightest way to go about doing it, but their leader had assured them they were strong enough to do it safely, and the demon they were summoning was supposedly new at all this as well, so it would probably be weaker than the more established demons. Possibly even more willing to make a deal in their favor, as well, if only to actually have a few under its proverbial belt.

 

With that in mind, they began the chant they had managed to find by communicating with other cults around the carefully constructed circle.

 

“ _Stella splendida, vos invoco. Vos invoco ut faciatis voluntatem meam. Dico nomen vestrum: Alcor!”_

 

The candles snuffed themselves out, relighting with blue flames that roared to the ceiling for a few seconds of intense heat before settling back down and behaving themselves as candles should, save for still burning a bright, cyan blue.

 

Smoke billowed out of the circle as Alcor formed, coming into being in bits and pieces of jagged static, like poor quality video, while more smoke snuck out of the circle and twined around the legs of the people clustered throughout the room.

 

The leader stepped forward shakily as the smoke floated up to the ceiling, looking up at the demon hovering a foot off the ground in awe. They began to speak, but their prepared speech was cut off as the fire alarms abruptly began to blare, the sprinklers rushing into life with a hiss.

 

Everyone cried out in surprise, demon included, raising arms and wings to cover their heads. The humans rushed for the exits as the sprinklers poured down water and the alarms continued to blare, the emergency lights set above the doors flashing blindingly bright and adding to the chaos.

 

 

It took them a while to reconvene in the parking lot. The building didn't have many offices or workers in it, but there were enough (and enough of it esoteric in nature) for their robes to pass without much question among the rest of the evacuees.

 

They stood close together, wringing out their robes and complaining quietly, debating just what it was that set off the alarms and hoping no one would pin it on them.

 

Sparks caught one's eye, and their jaw dropped when they saw just what was giving them off. They elbowed their neighbor until they were all staring at the drenched demon hovering nearby, the demon who was muttering darkly to himself as he wrung water out of his coat, flames sputtering and flickering like a damp log.

 

Alcor gave his coat one last flick before pulling it on. He gave his head a shake, hands fluffing up his hair and sending water spraying around. Finally dry, he glanced up, disgruntled and wings fluffed out wide. Alcor pointed at their leader with one claw tipped finger, and the cult braced themselves, sure they were about to die. “Check the surroundings next time, idiot. Ugh. I'm going home...”

 

With that, the demon disappeared, with none of the theatrics that had accompanied his entrance, and they looked at each other in befuddled confusion.

 

Well...at least they could try again, right? He did say next time...

 

Who knew Alcor the Dreambender acted like an affronted cat when he got wet?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who haven't seen them, some buildings have lights as part of the fire alarm system that are super bright, so those who can't hear the alarm will see them and know what's going on. They're set above the doors. Had them in my dorm. They hurt my eyes, but it was better than not having them.


	50. Cinnamon Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I tried to tell my friend about Alcor hating Cinnamon candles. I mentioned that the 'reason' was because they got dumped on him at some point. She immediately took that to the "well, what was he doing with the candle wax?" with the eyebrow wiggles implying things. I vote that this goes straight into the Twin Souls books.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/104950422948/i-tried-to-tell-my-friend-about-alcor-hating

 

It was a fact well established among the community of demonic researchers and summoners that Alcor the Dreambender, the Twin Star, owner of a dozen other titles, demon of unimaginable power, unholy offspring of nightmares and the void itself, _hated_ scented candles at his summoning, and that he loathed cinnamon scented ones with a special level of personal, fiery hatred.

 

But what no one could seem to find out was why.

 

Why the hatred for scented candles – and why hate the cinnamon ones in particular?

 

Of course, if one asked the Pines family of Gravity Falls, they would have been able to answer (depending on their mood, your method of asking, and whether there was money involved, you might actually get an answer – whether they told you the real answer was questionable, but an answer nonetheless) but hardly anyone thought to ask them.

 

Theories abounded, from the ridiculous (The last Mizar loved cinnamon, now it just reminds him of her) to the reasonable (can a demon be allergic to artificial scents?) to the dismissed yet, if they just knew it, spot on (he thought they were unprofessional, made him sneeze, and left him smelling of artificial cinnamon).

 

Those who knew Alcor knew the real reasons, and knew that it only got worse once a certain book series tried to explain their thoughts on the matter...

 

 

_Red candles surrounded the circle, the potently cloying odor of cinnamon pervading the air. The binding circle was stronger than titanium, and Alcor could only hover, watching his love anxiously as she fought the rope binding her to a chair across the floor of the warehouse, the people surrounding them chanting, determined to 'free' his Mizar from the love that bound their souls together as one..._

 

 

_Mizar giggled as she looked down on the bound Alcor. His arms were tied to the bedposts with her favorite silken scarves, eyes covered with another, and they both knew the scarves only kept him bound because he willed them to, for love of her, for otherwise no binding could truly hold him tied._

 

_She giggled again, naughtily, tilting the candle she held until the red, sharply scented wax beaded at the edge, ready to fall, and she leaned a little closer to her captive._

 

“ _Let's make a few better memories with these,” she whispered, to his deep, breathless chuckle, that turned to a short moan as the first drops hit his porcelain skin, like drops of blood on white silk._

 

 

_When she was finished, his sculpted chest was covered in streaks of red, like he'd been after that awful night, scented with the sharpness of cinnamon rather than the copper tang of blood. His breathing shuddered, perfect chest arching up into her greedy, roaming hand._

 

_Suddenly hit with the need to touch, to fill her hands with him, she ran her thumb over Alcor's lips, that rich softness hiding razor sharp teeth, and they parted breathlessly for her._

 

_She tucked the still lit candle between his lips, those daggers sinking into the wax and recoiling at the taste._

 

_The wax dribbled down the side, and she giggled again. “Don't move,” she warned him, “or you'll regret it.”She rocked against the velvet sheathed steel tempting her, eager to put it to use._

 

 

The candles Mabel had lit to 'set the mood' were blown out with the force of Dipper's nope out of the room, followed by his sister's laughter. On the couch, Henry's face was as red as the candles as he tried to pretend he couldn't hear the twins teasing each other.

 

It didn't work, but he tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I keep writing these...oh right, the die decided this one and I giggled long enough I had to write it. Twin Souls rides immortal. Thanks again to @tonithelibrarian for reading this over for me and helping me be sure it was cringe-inducing. :)


	51. Business Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper scaring the shit out of cultists by NOT doing the fire an brimstone routine. He turns up all businesslike in his suit, with a clipboard, starts jotting out terms with a little gold pen, just hands them the thing "sign here, initial here" tears off the top sheet "here's your copy" there's a pink copy underneath which he tucks into a little folder "expect results in 4-6 seconds" *demonic fedex box appears* "nice doing business with you." *gone* The whole thing took about 12 seconds.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/106061703178/dipper-scaring-the-shit-out-of-cultists-by-not

 

Tiffany was nervous and refused to show it. She would still refuse if she were alone, but doing this in front of her followers, well. She refused to show weakness before anyone, let alone those she'd conned into obeying her, lest one of them think they could take over in her place.

 

But if this worked, well, it would all be worth it. If the only way she was going to get what she wanted was if she made a literal deal with a devil, then she'd do it. She'd earned it, dammit, and she was going to have everything she deserved!

 

The lesser demons she'd previously summoned had fulfilled her purposes nicely enough at the time, so she knew she could do this. They just weren't powerful enough for Tiffany's purposes, unable to fulfill more than minor deals and provide her with the things she needed, or to satisfy her pride, that whispered that she could do better than these minor demons of limited power.

 

Her followers were chanting in the background, more to set the mood than to actually help with the summon, though she'd never tell them that. They were effective, she would give them that.

 

Enough waiting – she'd done this often enough, even the unpredictable Alcor could hardly have anything that surprising in store.

 

Raising her arms dramatically, Tiffany waited for the proper phrase in her follower's chanting for her cue to call out the summoning chant for Alcor, casting the sacrifice into the circle as she did.

 

A spiral of black smoke rose from the center of the circle, and abruptly Alcor floated a foot above the glowing lines, with no drama or theatrics involved. Empty air one second, and a demon the next.

 

He was standing ramrod straight, a clipboard and golden pen held in his gloved hands, and a small pair of half rim glasses perched on his nose. The light of the dimly glowing eldritch circle glinted off the lenses as he scribbled on the clipboard, the scritch of his pen the only sound in the stunned room.

 

He glanced up at them over the rimless top of the glasses for a brief moment before returning his attention to the clipboard.

 

Deciding to go for it and not allow herself to be distracted from her goal, Tiffany finally began to speak. “Oh great Alc...” Tiffany said, cut off as Alcor thrust the clipboard toward her.

 

“Terms are in gold, sign here and initial here if you agree,” he said crisply, a clawed and impeccably gloved finger pointing to the spots in question.

 

Struck speechless, thoroughly unnerved by the abrupt difference from the expected routine and intimidated despite herself, Tiffany scanned the contract quickly and signed and initialed where indicated.

 

Alcor took back his pen and clipboard, adjusting his glasses as he skimmed the paper. Nodding, he signed the paper himself before neatly tearing off the top sheet, passing it back to Tiffany. “Your copy,” he said shortly as he folded the pink sheet from underneath into a manila envelope that he tucked inside his coat, the clipboard disappearing with a tiny puff of smoke. “Results in 3...2...1,” a small pop and a box appeared, covered in what almost looked like postal stamps, though they were each somehow off, slightly demonic in appearance stamps that had never gone through a human post office.

 

The payment Tiffany had set aside for Alcor appeared in his hand with another pop, and he tucked it inside his hat, flipping the hat back into place before slipping off the glasses and tucking them inside his jacket. He gave them a little nod and tip of the hat, with a short, “Pleasure doing business with you.”

 

He pipped out of sight, quickly and quietly, the only evidence he had ever been there the contract and box in Tiffany's hands.

 

The whole summoning had taken less than a minute, and most of that had been Tiffany skimming the contract she was holding.

 

It was quite possibly the most efficient – and most terrifying – summon of her entire life.


	52. Demons and Sleepovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I honestly love drunk girls so much, last night I was at a party and a girl started crying because she loved my hair  
> One time in college, I had a fight with my boyfriend and was sitting outside crying, and a drunk girl came over and gave me a leaf to make me feel better.  
> i was on the train and 3 drunk girls saw me and said i had nice brown eyes so they sang “brown eyed girl” to me  
> I threw up at a frat party and I was crying in the bathroom and a drunk girl went upstairs to get me a shirt and came back with a sweater and a kitten.  
> At the last party I went to three drunk girls fishtail braided my hair by committee  
> a drunk girl drew an eye on the back of my hand and then patted it with satisfaction and whispered “count olaf”  
> once at a barbecue a drunk girl gave the surgical scar on my shoulder a butterfly kiss and said “you’re cured”  
> A drunk girl at a bar I was at became worried that I wasn’t getting enough nutrition and proceeded to hold peanuts to my lips and just keep saying “peanut peanut” until I would eat it. And after I allowed her to feed me a peanut she pet my hair and said “Thank you”.
> 
> http://phenyxsnest.tumblr.com/post/138807011055/erincrocodile-wizzard890

 

The party had been going on for hours now, and all the young women at the sorority sleepover party were at that pleasant stage of drunk where everything seemed brilliant.

 

Which was the major reason why they were daring each other to try out the summon Bridget had been given when she'd been accepted into the Cult of Dippingsauce. The other women didn't believe that any demon could be friendly, and, well, Bridget was drunk enough that proving them wrong about this particular demon by calling him up seemed like a wonderful idea.

 

 

Alcor the Dreambender appeared in the circle in a swirl of smoke, demanding “W͠HO DA͜REŚ.̵..͠a̸h crap ̡no,” he finished as he caught sight of the young women in various states of dress and un-dress. “No͜ ̛n͏o͝ n͢o̸ , ͜not̸ ҉m̨or̷e͡ Twi͡ń So͞u͝l̸s͡ ̷f͟a͢ns. Nope͠, ̨n͠ot ͜to̕d͏a̶y. Cr͠ap. ̧I am so̧ góne͝.͢..”

 

Just before he could disappear, one of the women made a face. “Ugh, Twin Souls is so overrated,” she said, words slurring slightly, enough to make Dipper pause and tilt his head in confusion. “The writing is sub par at best, and...”

 

“There she goes, complaining about lit again,” another one laughed. The first woman huffed, flipping her hair and nearly losing her balance.

 

“O̢...͟ka͜y͢.͠ Why̛ ha̧ve͜ ̡y̷ou̢ summ͝o̸n̸ed̴ ͟m͜e̛,͏ ţhe҉n?͘” Dipper asked. 

 

“Well, Brigie joined something called the 'Cult of Dippingsauce' a few weeks ago,” said another young woman, gesturing widely as she spoke, “and we didn't believe anything she was telling us, about how you used to show up to sleepovers and stuff, so here we are.”

 

“A̴r̸e͝ y̴ou e̵v̶èn ͞şe̵ri͢o̵u͞ş.͡..?” Dipper muttered, burying his face in his hands. “Look,̛ ̵th̵a͠t's͜ n̸òt how҉ ̛t̴h͟is workś, ҉a͜n͞d͞.͝..” he paused as he felt the eyes on him and he peeked out between his fingers.

 

One of the girls was staring at him intently, hands twitching, and he raised his head to look at her sharply, brushing hair out of his eyes impatiently. “W͟h̷at ͜ar̛e͜ you͘.̕.. ”

 

She stepped into the circle. Shocked and more than a little surprised, Dipper started to float away, only to freeze as she started to stroke his hair. “So pretty,” she cooed. “Fluffy fluffy.”

 

“U͞m̴.̛..̕h̢el͠lo? ͢W̵ha͏t a̵re y̴ou.̛.̧.͢yóư'r͠e d́r̴un͘k̨. You͟'re͠ d̡ŗu͡nk, aren't you,” Alcor said as he ducked the patting hand. A quick sniff let him smell the overpowering scent of alcohol, and it finally clicked in, leaving him staring gobsmacked at the women.

 

“I...you're all drunk,” he said, starting when the woman started petting him again, cooing over how pretty and fluffy his hair was. He didn't duck away this time, too busy fighting the sudden urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

 

Because on the one hand, this _was_ ridiculous. On the other, it was...kind of nice? And the playing with his hair was pleasant, and it had been a long, long time since he'd been able to just hang out with someone, what with the newest CoD being so new and still unsure about summoning him just to hang out, and it'd been so long since there had been an active chapter...

 

One of the other women was also looking closely at Dipper, almost as if she were trying to figure something out. Suddenly she gasped, her hands over her cheeks dramatically, before dashing off to the kitchen.

 

The rest surrounded Dipper, chattering brightly as they tugged him out of the circle and toward their pillow fort, and he let himself be pulled along.

 

 

Ten minutes later and Dipper was still a little bemused, though now it was paired with a hearty helping of amusement, and he found he was actually enjoying himself.

 

He was settled on the floor with his legs crossed, surrounded by the drunk women who had summoned him and their chatter. The woman who had been fascinated by his hair was still playing with it, but now she had been joined by another two ladies, and they were apparently combing and braiding it by committee.

 

Another two had taken one look at his claws and run for their nail polish. They had proceeded to drunkenly and laughingly argue for almost a full ten minutes before settling on colors. Now one of them was painting the claws on Dipper's left hand while he obligingly painted her friend's right.

 

His claws hadn't looked this good in years.

 

The girl who had run to the kitchen had come back with a bowl of grapes. Apparently she thought he looked too thin and wasn't getting enough nutrition (she'd argued something about souls not being nutritionally sound, though it was a little confused, likely because of her level of intoxication and his inability to explain to the drunk lady that he didn't need to eat) and was holding them up to his mouth one at a time, repeating “Nom. Nom. Nom,” until he ate it.

 

She patted his head and said “Thank you” after he accepted each grape. That was the part that really made him want to laugh.

 

He was really confused by that, but accepted it as payment for staying corporeal. A bit surprised that a human was willing to put their hand that close to his teeth, drunk or not, but amused and confused enough to eat it anyway.

 

When the grapes ran out, she ran back to the kitchen and came back a bit later with popcorn, chocolate, and a couple of bananas.

 

All in all, he was feeling a little spoiled and pampered right now, and a little piece of him was missing Mabel more than ever – she would have  _ loved _ this, and loved teasing him about it for ages. As it was, he was going to have to tell her currant incarnation about this later – she was going to love it, too, then insist on a repeat performance at her next sleep over.

 

 

When the women woke up the next morning, hung over and bleary, they were at first inclined to think they had managed to hallucinate summoning a demon the night before.

 

Until Bridget squeaked, slapped a hand over her mouth, and pointed with a shaking finger at the blanket bundle in the middle of the pillow fort.

 

The one that had a peacefully slumbering demon wrapped up in it, hand with painted claws – and they recognized Rebekah's nail polish on those claws, a similar shade on her nails and on Heather's – lying slack beside his head, slightly open mouth showing a hint of razor sharp teeth, and braided hair lying across his face.

 

As if sensing their eyes on him he stirred, and they clutched at each other, holding their breath as he sat up and stretched, like a cat, long and thorough.

 

He grinned at the expressions on their faces and floated up out of his bundle. “Well, that was fun, ladies,” he said, voice quiet and nearly free of reverb. He made a quick gesture and a clear pitcher of bright pink liquid a appeared in a puff of glitter, which he set on the ground and carefully slid closer to them. “Here – call it even. That'll take care of those hangovers of yours.” He tilted his hat at them, painted nails sparkling, and grinned. “Goodbye for now, then.”

 

He disappeared with a tiny puff of smoke, and the young women looked at each other in shock.

 

Then Bridget got up, shakily, and picked up the pitcher. Taking it to the kitchen, she got down a glass and poured some.

 

“Wait, don't drink it!” Amanda cried, but it was too late – Bridget had already chugged the whole glass. Bridget paused as the others watched in fear, thinking over what she'd just tasted.

 

“Huh. What do you know, it worked,” she said. “Doesn't taste half bad either.” She started rummaging through the drawers, and cursed. “Fucker ate all the grapes!” There was a pause before she added, “The bananas and chocolate, too, damn it!”

 

“Um...I might have fed them to him,” Jamie said, clutching her head in panic as she remembered, “...oh my god, I hand fed grapes to the Dreambender!” Bridget paused her search as memories of last night came flooding back, and the groans of the others hinted they were starting to remember patches of last night, too.

 

“...we gotta invite him to the next sleepover,” Rebekah declared. “Bridgie, that cult of yours still open for new members? 'Cuz I think we just accidentally joined.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Tonithelibrarian on tumblr, who edited this for me. :)


	53. Baby Summons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the ask about Dipper finding baby!Mabel and adopting her, imagine that he's pulled with her into a summons once, and the cultists hear him calling her 'Mizar'. Suddenly the theory of Mizar being a phoenix-like entity comes back in full force and razes through the internet. (On the good side, the human sacrifices that were still done to Alcor every once in a while stop completely bc everyone is terrified of accidentally sacrificing Mizar OR Gliese, holy shit, how had they forgotten that)
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/106921971388/on-the-ask-about-dipper-finding-baby-mabel-and

 

Dipper still couldn't get over finding Maddie abandoned on the side of the road like she was nothing more than garbage. If she hadn't been pulling on their bond like she had, too young to know what she was doing, just wanting somebody to make things better...

 

She was still just so very _tiny_ , he could almost hold her in one hand. Not that he would, of course. No, he wasn't going to take a single chance with his Mizar, so fresh and new and already with one near death experience to her latest name, to chance anything with her.

 

Well, he had taken _one_ chance, introducing her to Toby. But, well...Bill's soul had gotten on well with Mabel's in its last incarnation. It wasn't that he worried about how Toby would take suddenly having a little sister, or how much more openly affectionate he was towards her and worried about how Toby would take it, of course not.

 

That was just...it was silly.

 

A problem was starting to arise, though, and Dipper still wasn't quite sure how to handle it.

 

Toby had taken to having a little sister surprisingly quickly, and was willing to babysit her at any opportunity. Despite all his misgivings Dipper had to allow it at times – Jerry was working to support his own kids, he didn't have time to babysit at the drop of a hat just because Dipper got a summons he couldn't ignore. Toby's schedule wasn't completely free – he had classes and work – but he was still more often available than Jerry. Plus, whenever they got the opportunity, they were both eager for time with the baby.

 

But Maddie, well...she didn't take well to Dipper leaving her. Maybe it was because she'd been abandoned once, maybe some part of her soul recognized Dipper and didn't want to leave him anymore, but every time Dipper had to leave her, not matter who her left her with, she would start to cry.

 

It would start with the pitiful looks, whimpering as she started searching for Dipper, before turning to full blown wails that wouldn't stop until she was in Dipper's arms again.

 

They were making progress, with Toby and Jerry, able to leave her for almost ten minutes with one of them before she started fussing, but...

 

Even for a demon of near limitless power, it was _hard_. Harder still when he couldn't stand to hear her (or Toby, no matter his protests to the contrary) cry and came running at the first whimpers.

 

In fact, she sometimes still started to wail even if Dipper just put her down for more than a few minutes at a time. She was getting better, but since Dipper had a hard time making himself put her down or let her out of his sight, it was slow going.

 

 

All of which was why, when Dipper felt the insistent pull of an unavoidable summons, one that yanked him into the circle too fast and hard to prepare for, he was still holding Maddie as he swirled into existence inside the glowing circle.

 

He glanced down at her as soon as they were solid, worried about blipping at her age – but she just blinked up at him before she smiled and cooed, still content at being held and undeterred by the brief oddness. Reassured, he turned his attention to the cult that had so roughly demanded his attention.

 

Dipper cradled Maddie close in his arms, letting her chew on his finger (bent to keep the blunted claw from her) to keep her occupied as the lead cultist stammered his way through his spiel, eyes continuously returning to the baby in Dipper's arms.

 

Dipper snarled, baring teeth sharper than usual when those eyes lingered on Maddie, and the cultist 'eep'ed softly and fastened his eyes to the floor.

 

The snarl startled Maddie, who screwed up her face and began to whimper. Immediately Dipper forgot the cultists who'd dared to stare at his child, shushing her gently and rocking her. “Shh, shh, Mizar, it's okay. Did Alcor scare you? I'm so sorry Mizar sweetheart, it's okay...”

 

Luckily enough Maddie was, for the most part, a happy baby and easily soothed.

 

It was only when Maddie calmed down that Dipper realized just how deathly silent the room had become. He glanced up to find everyone staring at him and the baby, or trying to pretend they weren't.

 

“W̵hat̡?” he demanded, letting more reverb into his voice, dropping it again when Maddie fussed. “Never seen a baby before?”

 

“...Mizar?” a tiny voice asked, and Dipper glared, clutching Maddie a little closer, to her giggling joy.

 

“ _ Mine _ ,” he hissed, softly enough that it didn't frighten the baby tugging at his ribbon bow tie, stoking her soft curls gently, possessively. “My Mizar. Now. What did you want?”

 

From there, the deal went off without a hitch as the cultists did their best to ignore the happily cooing baby cradled in the demon's arms. The demon in question watched them, expertly holding the baby, clawed hands never causing so much as a dent in the soft skin of the squirming child even as she tugged at his tie or hair.

 

Thankfully for Dipper's state of mind, what the cultists wanted wasn't really that big of a deal for him – big enough to explain summoning a demon of his power, but not something he had to give them a bad time over.

 

It would have been different if he hadn't been holding Maddie, but he really didn't want to have to rip into anyone while the baby was there. Bad parenting, that.

 

Screwing them over with their own words and running the con like he'd been taught was just fine, though. That'd teach them for summoning a demon. And it didn't scar Maddie for life. Bonus.

 

 

He blipped home as soon as he could, checking Maddie over one last time to be sure it hadn't hurt her as she cooed and giggled at her silly daddy.

 

Yes, he'd blipped with niblings before, but they'd all been quite a bit older when it had happened, and, well...okay so maybe Jerry was right and he was being a bit paranoid and overprotective.

 

Since Maddie was fine, though, he put the whole thing out of his mind and concentrated on getting her ready for bed.

 

 

Dipper had nearly forgotten the whole thing when Jerry cornered him a week later, while he and Maddie and Toby were at the library for dinner.

 

Jerry was smirking as he dragged Dipper into the office where he kept the records and his computer, leaving the kids to fend for themselves for a few minutes and the young adult to watch the baby.

 

The demon wiki was already up on the screen, open to Mizar's page, and Dipper didn't have a chance to ask what was up before Jerry was pushing him into the chair and pointing at the hovering screen.

 

“Read,” was all he said, and with a suspicious look to his many-times-over great nephew, Dipper did.

 

The information tended to change a little when a new Mizar did something big enough to gain attention, but the core of it stayed the same – that occasionally, someone who called themselves Mizar would appear alongside Alcor, fighting cults, and to beware of them, and how to identify a potential Mizar. Maddie was still so little, though, he didn't see how the page could have changed yet...

 

Then Dipper got to the bottom of the page.

 

_ Alcor was seen at a recent summon with a baby, which he referred to as“Mizar”. It would seem that, phoenix-like, Mizar is reborn every so often to continue their role as Alcor's child/wife/twin star. Further discussion on this topic should be taken to the forums until the status of this claim can be verified. _

 

Dipper's face scrunched up in confusion and he clicked his way over to the forums in a rush as Jerry chuckled, leaning on the wall and watching.

 

Words and phrases jumped out at him as he skimmed too fast for a mortal to follow.

 

_ So Mizar reincarnates too? _

 

“ _like a phoenix”...I thought she was a demon like him, but does this sighting mean she's human? If she's not, why else would she let herself be turned into a baby? What's the current theory on Mizar's species?_

 

_ Maybe that's why Alcor hates human sacrifice... _

 

_...what if a cult accidentally sacrificed Mizar? _

 

_ OR GLIESE oh shit what if someone sacrificed her by accident? _

 

_ HOW DID WE FORGET ABOUT THIS NO WONDER SO MANY ALCOR CULTS END UP DEAD AFTER SACRIFICING HUMANS WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE like it wasn't a bad enough idea already!!! _

 

There was more in that vein, page after page after page of panic and theories and discussion, links to scholarly demonic research being conducted on the topic, forums and webpages and more, and Dipper leaned back with a strange mix of relief and confusion. Well, that wasn't what he expected from showing up holding Maddie, but...well...if it meant people stopped sacrificing each other, especially to him in particular, he'd take it.

 

...anyone tried touching one of his kids because of this, though, and he wasn't going to be responsible for what he did to them. They had their warning right there, easy to find and in plain language, clear as day.


	54. Cassie and the Demon's Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper marked Cassie on their second year of knowing each other or so bc he's an overprotective nerd and she fucking summons demons to help with homework. No demon would dare mess with her bc hELLO THERE ALCOR'S PROPERTY BITCH, and Cassie wouldn't even realize it until that time a shitty ex tries to sick a demon on her and the demon literally sees her and goes 'nOPE THE DEAL IS OFF FORGET IT I'M OUTTIE'. He then tells Cassie who summoned him (to save his own ass of course) and rUNS.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/107186382048/i-headcanon-dipper-marked-cassie-on-their-second

 

Cassie had been summoning Alcor the Dreambender for help with schoolwork for a year, before expanding her summonses to include both schoolwork and just to hang out for a second year. Sometime during the third year, she was granted his proper name, alongside the end of the lectures on summoning demons and a good measure of trust going both ways.

 

A few summonses after that, Dipper paused in the middle of a giggle fest to look at Cassie strangely.

 

Leaning forward, he brushed a kiss across her forehead. Her hand flew up to cover the spot, which had tingled for a second, and she gave him a look, taken off guard by the surprise affection.

 

“What was that for?” she demanded. He shrugged, tossing some popcorn at her.

 

“No reason,” he said airily. “Just...because I could. And because I care.”

 

Cassie blew a raspberry, throwing popcorn back at Dipper. It started an all out popcorn fight, and the random kiss was forgotten.

 

 

Being best friends with a demon made dating...interesting. Most of them Cassie had one or two light dates with, never anything serious, just testing the waters. Dipper may have been in a class of his own, but he was still a demon, and Cassie wasn't willing t risk either her or his safety. She'd rather keep her best friend, demon or not, than any of the people she'd gone on a date with.

 

Then she tried dating Scott, and, well...he decided things were far, far more serious than they were, far faster than Cassie was comfortable with.

 

The break up wasn't pretty. Cassie hadn't thought they'd gone out enough to even warrant a break up, since two dates did not engaged make, but apparently Scott had other ideas.

 

 

It had been two months since Cassie had broken up with Scott, and to be blunt, she had mostly forgotten all about it.

 

Until, in the middle of the night, when she was alone in the house, she was woken by smoke and flames and glowing lights in her bedroom.

 

She'd thought she was used to demons manifesting in her room.

 

She was wrong.

 

The demon in the center of the smoldering circle scorched into Cassie's carpet didn't even remotely resemble a human. Too many arms, too many eyes, some sort of abomination created of nightmares crouched, still smoking, too close to her bed.

 

It grinned at her sadistically, running a too long tongue over too long teeth, eying her hungrily.

 

Cassie pressed herself against the wall, groping for the circle on her nightstand, voice frozen and heart pounding so hard it felt it would force its way out of her chest, silently screaming for Dipper to come help her.

 

The demon in the circle took a step closer, then its eyes darted up to her forehead and it froze. Its mouth formed silent words before it skittered back, like a small frightened animal, away from the stunned Cassie.

 

“Oh ́n̡o. N̨o. ͟N̸O͝PĘ. NOPE̷ TH̛IS̵ ͘AIN'͝T W̕ORTH͠ ͠I̡T I ͢A̷M OUT͡.̷” they gurgled, still skittering away. “So͜rr͝y s͟orr͝y ͏j͟u̕s̨t g͟onna̡ ̸l͘eav͠e d͟o̴n̛'҉t̵ téll Al̴cor  _ DO͞N̸'T TELL ͘A͟L͞CƠR͝ P̵L̸E͞A͠SE͢ _ ”

 

“I won't tell him it was you if you tell me who summoned you and why,” Cassie said quickly, before the demon could disappear. She'd demand Dipper tell her how they knew about him later.

 

They nodded their head quickly, like a marionette. “O҉k̀ày okay̸ f̛ai̸ŕ d̢e͘al̛ fąi͏r e͟n͢o̡ugh ̛- ̴me͘a͟tb͜a҉g̛'̀s ́na͟m͘e̷ ͟w͢a̵s ҉S͡çott̵ ̕B̡e҉a͟uch͞a͟mṕ, ̴w̨a̷nt́ed̶ ͘t͟o 't̷eac͡h yo͏u̴ ͢a le͘ss̛on'͏ and h̛a̛v̶e a̛ sc̡a̴r͡e ͏an͘d҉ ҉p͜ret̀end̶ ̕t́o̧ re͜s͝c̸ue ͡y͝ou̸.̷ Sho̢uld be͠ co̕mi̡ng b͞ỳ so̷on.” It paused, adding almost pathetically, “Can I͘ ͞go̵ ͢n̵ow҉?”

 

Cassie was not one prone to fear or to anger. In fact, it was hard to get her angry sometimes, and as for fear, well, she'd summoned a demon for math help. So when she saw red now, still shaking with adrenalin and fear of the demon in her room, it was enough to finally bring Alcor roaring into existence, already covered in void black and with fire spilling from eye and claw.

 

He saw the demon cowering on Cassie's rug and lunged, his roar of rage cut short by Cassie's cry of “No, don't!”

 

Dipper pulled up short, claws barely an inch from the other demon, who disappeared the instant he paused, leaving faint claw and scorch marks behind.

 

“Cassie? Why did...it got away!” Dipper said, glaring briefly at the spot where the other demon had stood before starting to fuss over Cassie. “What's going on? Are you okay? _Shit_ , I was too slow, I'm sorry, but why...”

 

“Scott,” Cassie growled, and Dipper paused.

 

“...isn't he that guy you had like two dates with a couple months ago? The one who thought he could tell you what to do?”

 

“ _ Yes, _ ” she said, blankets bunching under her hands. “ _ He _ sent that demon, to 'teach me a lesson' and let him pretend to be a hero. Then it just stopped when it saw me and said the deal wasn't worth it and started begging me not to tell you.” She gave Dipper a glare, though her heart wasn't in it, most of her anger still directed at her ex, fear cooling now that Dipper was here. “How'd it even know about you?”

 

Dipper scratched at the back of his head like the goober he was, shifting uneasily. “Um...I might have...marked you? When I kissed you? So other demons and stuff would know you were under my protection?”

 

Cassie's mouth opened and closed a few times before sounds from downstairs cut her off. Dipper's ears twitched, and he said, “It's Scott, ready to come play hero and wondering why it's so quiet.” He raised a claw covered hand and grinned, mischief sparking in his eyes, meeting Cassie's raised eyebrow with a grin. “Want to give  _ him _ a scare and a lesson instead?”

 

The slowly growing grin on Cassie's face was almost as evil as Dipper's, and for a brief second he wished she could have met Mabel – they would have been a force to be reckoned with. “I knew there was a reason we're friends,” she said. “Now cover your ears, I scream loud.”


	55. The Rainbow Basher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Had another thought, this one for older Mabel who can’t go out to bash cults as much as she starts to get older, mainly due to pains and things from a lifetime of cult bashing. Probably realizing after one particular cult bashing that her back starts to ache and she’s not hitting as hard and she’s kind of down about getting old. So her kids decide to get her something special
> 
> A tricked out Pickup Truck; A large forward grill rammer, reinforced plate with enough heat resistant charm to power through a dragon’s breath, Dwarven made roll cage and engine, Rainbow Chrome Finish, also a little emergency button called Rainbow Road and Cupholders
> 
> And an emergency summoning circle in the bed of the pickup truck basically she might not be able to fight as well but now she can car bash through people.
> 
> The Rainbow Basher.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/129904841107/rainbow-basher-mabels-new-ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZS0WIQI7UU is the music I'm hearing for the last third of this fic. So for an enhanced experience, come back up and open this up when you get there. ;)

 

 

Mabel fell into the couch at the Library, and oof, even that hurt.

 

Getting older was the _worst_.

 

She hadn't realized how it was creeping up on her, but she'd found a streak of grey in her hair last week (she'd brushed it off as a consequence of having three kids and a demon brother, then proceeded to tickle Dipper until he cried when he tried to tease her about it. He had streaks to match, now. Twins forever.).

 

But now...she knew she'd hit that cultist, but he hadn't gone down with one hit like they used to, when she was younger. Yeah, she'd taken him out, but she was sore now, and her back was complaining at her in a way it hadn't before.

 

Old wounds were starting to hurt, too, on rainy mornings, and she understood now why Grunkle Stan had so much trouble moving some mornings.

 

And it was only a month until her and Dipper's next birthday. She'd wanted to do something big, a real blowout bash for turning fifty, it wasn't that old!

 

But apparently a lifetime of fighting and wounds and everything else was catching up to her. If this kept up, she was going to have to leave all the fighting to the kids before she was actually old, and they might have been grown but that didn't mean she had to like the idea of leaving them alone to fight.

 

Or of having to give up the fighting for herself, either.

 

Ugh. This was the worst.

 

 

The triplets peeked into the living room, where their mom was sprawled across the couch, pouting at the ceiling.

 

Uncle Dipper had already popped in with pain pills, and they would guess an offer of a deal for the pain, but she'd waved him off this time.

 

Acacia tugged at their sleeves and they retreated up to Willow's room, where they wouldn't be overheard.

 

“There has to be something we can do,” Acacia groused once they were safe in the attic, flopping back onto her sister's bed. “Mom's not that old.”

 

“But she is starting to slow down,” Hank said slowly, “and getting slower in this business gets you killed, even with Uncle Dipper around.”

 

His sisters winced. Their parents and uncles had tried to keep some parts of what their mother and uncle did away from them until they were older, but some things they discovered on their own – like how Uncle Dipper couldn't always get there in time.

 

“Maybe...maybe there's a way we _can_ help, and give her some protection too...” Willow said, obviously thinking it through as she spoke.

 

Her sister snorted. “How? She's almost as stubborn about asking for help as you are.”

 

Willow halfheartedly tossed a pillow at her sister.“I have an idea, but we're going to need a lot of help...”

 

 

Dipper knew something. Mabel knew it.

 

Her brother was awful at keeping secrets, and even becoming a demon hadn't helped any. At his best, he still couldn't hide the fact that he knew something.

 

She suspected Henry knew something too, but her husband was much better at secret keeping, and she wouldn't think about why, or she'd be too angry to function.

 

There was noise from outside, the crowd milling about, and Mabel was impatiently waiting to find out just why she was being kept inside, away from her birthday party.

 

Then, over the sound of the crowd, a dull roar. An engine of some kind and louder cheering. A blast of music sounded over the crowd, bright and happy syntho-pop eighties music. Henry turned to her with a grin.

 

“There's our cue,” he said. “Come see your present, honey.”

 

Mabel stepped out the door and started squealing in joy at such a high pitch, several of Hank's friends had to cover their ears and step away.

 

Because there, in front of the door, was the car of her dreams, with her kids standing around it proudly, and a banner draped across the front reading “TO MABEL, FROM EVERYONE”.

 

It was painted in rainbows, with a huge grill on the front, so huge it was practically a cow catcher. It shimmered in the light, sparkling with a glittery sheen. Henry walked along with Mabel as the triplets pointed out the features of the huge truck, while Dipper floated overhead to view the whole from above.

 

Dwarven roll cage; charms and sigils painted and molded into the metal protecting it against everything the triplets, Henry, and the Dinner Crew could think of; an emergency summoning circle on the truck bed; and _cupholders_. It had everything!

 

 

 

The middle of the woods was the perfect place for a summoning, in the opinion of The Cult of Eternal Night.

 

No roads, the only way to reach their site was to hike through the woods, miles from civilization...no one could bother them here.

 

The sacrifice was struggling and crying, ignored as they began to chant.

 

The leader raised his hands high, the chanting rising – as was a faint music. It grew louder and louder as the moments passed, until the leader finally snapped, “What the hell is that music? Who brought music?”

 

As if on cue, lights cut through the darkness along with the roar of an engine. The music blasted its loudest as a truck tore through the trees, plants falling in front of its grill as the woman inside whooped and the demon standing in the bed, gripping the handholds on the roof, wings spread wide, screeched with glee.

 

The cultists scattered as the truck skewed to a halt, blinding them with its lights. As it deafened them with its music and blinded them with even more lights, colored and flashing in time to the music in seizure inducing patterns, redheads poured from inside to attack them.

 

 

To say Mabel liked her present was putting it mildly. Cackling, much like her brother, she revved the engine of _The Rainbow Basher_ and watched the cultists flee her daughters.

 

Best. Birthday. Ever.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you ask 'How is Stan still alive, if the twins are turning 40 here?' I looked and MaryPSue has him dying at 117, so I went with that because dammit she made me cry with that fic. Ahem. So he'd be ~110 here.  
> Shoutout to tonithelibrarian, who edited this for me. :)


	56. Disneyfied Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's not a prompt/headcanon/from the blog, but a thought I had.
> 
> Of the triplets going through a Disney phase.
> 
> The triplets going through a Disney phase and getting Uncle Dipper to learn all the music for sing-alongs.
> 
> And then this happened.

Jamie sniffled and tried to hide it – she wasn't a crybaby, no matter what the boys on the daycare said – but she wanted her mommy. This adventure wasn't fun anymore, like the man from the playground had promised it would be.

 

Instead, after he'd given her a piece of candy, he'd dragged her down to a dark basement with a bunch of other adults in weird robes, sat her down in the corner, tied her to a pipe, told her to stay put and be quiet, and threatened to smack her when she cried.

 

The adults were arguing, something about candles and chanting and someone called _Alcor_ and big words and Jamie didn't understand what they were talking about but it didn't sound like a fun game. Maybe it would be fun after Mr. Alcor got here? Because she wasn't having fun at all, and she was ready to go home.

 

Then one of them grabbed her, cutting her free from the pipe and dragging her over to the circle. The rest of the adults started some kind of chant in a strange language and the one holding her raised a knife, slicing across Jamie's arm even as she cried and struggled.

 

Her blood splattered into the circle and hissed, smoke boiling around the lines of chalk as they lit up with gold light that flowed through the lines like liquid.

 

As the light finished filling all the lines of the circle there were yells and banging from upstairs and the adults started to panic, dropping Jamie to the floor to rush upstairs.

 

Jamie sat at the edge of the circle where she'd fallen, crying and wishing harder than ever for her mommy.

 

 

Another day, another summoning – same dark basement, cheap candles, no cultists, crying kid...

 

Wait, no cultists and a crying kid?

 

Confused and a little alarmed, Dipper drifted down to the ground, letting his demonic appearance drift away to reveal his everyday, human-ish form. He twisted until he could see at least part of the kid's face behind her hands, masking the snarl that wanted to rise when he realized it was her blood in the circle that had called him.

 

“Hey,” he said, in the voice he reserved for his niblets, “You're pretty young for demon summoning, kiddo.”

 

The kid sniffed and looked up, rubbing a hand across her eyes. “You're a demon?” she asked, voice slurred by her tears and age.

 

“Probably the only nice one in the world, so don't get any ideas about summoning demons for things,” Dipper said, well aware of how true and conditional his status as 'nice' was, how dependent on both his summoner and his own state of mind it could be. He just hoped he'd never lose himself so far that kids as small as this one would have to fear him... “Did you summon me?”

 

“The mean 'dults did,” she said. “They said there was candy an' there'd be games but then they tied me up and they hurt me, look,” she said, holding out her slashed arm for proof. Dipper made a suitably sympathetic noise (mentally debating just how he'd make the cultists pay for hurting a child to summon him, one smaller even than the triplets, though thankfully the slash wasn't a deep one), and she looked up at him, lip wibbling.

 

“It hurts, and I want my mommy,” she said, sniffling. “She'd kiss it better. Will you kiss it better?” she asked, holding the wounded arm out toward Dipper.

 

Okay, he could do this...carefully Dipper took the arm she held out to him. A quick lick gave him enough blood to call it even, too fast for the kid to register what he'd done, and he pressed a kiss to the wound on her arm, scabbing it over and stopping the pain. It was shallow enough she'd likely not scar from it, but he couldn't do much more than scab it over with just a taste of blood. Not for someone who wasn't family.

 

She sniffled, giving a wobbly smile through her tears as her arm stopped hurting.

 

She was still radiating scared unhappiness, and Dipper could sense the cultists upstairs – there were other adults up there, breaking up the cult, so the cultists weren't coming back down anytime soon – but neither was anyone else, not for awhile. And Dipper wasn't taking this tiny child up there until it was safe. Right now, some cultist was likely to get the idea to try using her as a hostage, or the rescuers would freak out over the demon holding a small child and make things more complicated. Not that he could blame them, but still.

 

“What's your name, Mr. Demon?” the little girl asked, sniffling but trying to be brave and drawing Dipper's attention back to her. She held out a hand to shake, too young to understand just what she was offering. “I'm Jamie.”

 

Gently Dipper took the offered hand, willing the flames away, the sudden urge to use the freely given name against the child. “They call me Alcor. It's a star.”

 

Aaand she was starting to tear up again. “Mr. Alcor? I want my mommy...”

 

No, no, no tears... as much as Dipper wanted to, he couldn't just blip her out of here. She wasn't unwanted, just kidnapped, he could feel it – and her parents were outside, waiting desperately for the police to bring them their little girl. If he could just distract her for a little while, until they got here... “Who's that on your shirt, princess?”

 

Jamie giggled at the demon who didn't know who Disney princesses were. “It's Jasmine,” she said proudly. “She's my favorite.”

 

“Why's that?” Dipper asked, taking another 'glance' upstairs. He folded his legs to sit on the air, cross legged, in front of the little girl. It was going to take awhile to get the adults downstairs, and unless he wanted everyone to know he had a soft spot for kids he'd be best off just keeping her calm down here until they finished up there.

 

Jamie sniffled a little, significantly more cheerful as she began chatting about just why Jasmine was her favorite princess. Dipper smiled and nodded as she chatted on, making sure to keep his mouth closed so his teeth wouldn't scare her, warmed through by the easy trust she was showing him.

 

“...and I love her songs the best,” Jamie finished, grinning proudly. Dipper's ear flicked, listening to the commotion above that had yet to reach them as it grew louder before fading again.

 

Damn, but that cult was determined not to go down easy. Then again, if they were willing to kidnap a child to sacrifice to a demon...

 

“You know, I might have heard of her, after all,” Dipper said. “She sang _Big New World_ , right?”

 

“Whole _New World_ ,” Jamie giggled at the deliberate flub, like Dipper had hoped she would. “Can you sing it with me? Mommy sings with me when I get scared.”

 

Ah, what the hell, they wouldn't hear him over the noise upstairs...just one wouldn't hurt...he nodded and the little girl beamed.

 

“You start, okay? I like doing Jasmine's part,” she said, and well...how could he resist?

 

 

Dipper didn't realize how long the police were taking to clean up the cult upstairs until they had gone through a good four more songs, and they were interrupted in the middle of _Supercalifragiliciousexpialidocious_ by a sharp gasp from the stairs.

 

Dipper twisted in midair, his head doing a full 180 without thinking in his surprise, (Jamie's reaction: “Neat!”), to see a man and woman on the staircase, staring at him in horror, and the worried verging on panicked colors hanging around them proclaimed them Jamie's parents.

 

If he hadn't figured it out before then, Jamie's ecstatic “ _Mommy!_ ” was a dead giveaway as she scrambled to her feet and ran to the woman, who hurried to clutch her daughter in her arms.

 

Quietly panicking, Dipper salvaged as much dignity as he could as he twisted his body to match his head, giving the parents a slightly mocking salute.

 

“Better keep a closer eye on her,” he said, letting a slight rumble into his voice. “Next time, she might not be so lucky.”

 

“Bye Mr. Alcor!” Jamie called, waving enthusiastically as his form began to blur.

 

The indistinct figure waved back before disappearing completely, leaving two adults utterly dumbfounded as their child began chattering happily about her playmate, and sure of only one thing – no one was ever going to believe them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thanks again goes out to @tonithelibrarian for editing this for me! And allow me a moment to brag – I was able to spell 'Supercalifragiliciousexpialidocious” right on the first go. /nerd


	57. SpinDip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demonic Uncles, Triplet Games, and Stuffed Animals
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/107292293073/the-triplets-will-sometimes-throw-stuffed-animals

 

 

The first time the triplets played “SpinDip”, they were still too young to quite grasp what they'd started.

 

They just knew it was _hilarious._

 

They had been throwing stuffed toys at each other, a loose sort of game that three year olds come up with, when a throw went wild.

 

It smacked into the back of their uncle's head, and all three triplets hissed in a breath, just old enough to know hitting others was Bad.

 

But the momentum of the toy knocked their floating uncle forward until he was pretending to be angry at them while bobbing upside down, arms crossed and tails dangling by his head and top hat still firmly in place, to their squeals of delighted laughter.

 

Then he reached for them, still upside down, and the triplets scattered, shrieking with laughter as they were hunted down and tickled into submission by the world's most powerful demon.

 

 

Willow was the first to do it on purpose.

 

But...Uncle Dipper had been moody all day, moping around the mindscape of the shack in one of his angsty moods, a swirling mess of purple/gray/blue/blorple muck that made Willow want to cry every time she looked at it swirling around him, and that was even with her uncle shielding for her.

 

And Willow finally cracked and threw Matilda, her stuffed purple platypus, at the back of her Uncle's head.

 

She had to admit, later, that she may have thrown Matilda a little harder than necessary.

 

The toy smacked into Dipper's head, sending the floating demon into a somersault and knocking him out of the mindscape, flailing and yelping.

 

He hit the floor after two more out of control spins, calling out, “I'm hit! Dipper down, Dipper down!” from his sprawl on the floor.

 

Giggling madly, Willow leapt on her uncle's stomach, tickling with all the determination a seven year old could muster.

 

“No more sads!” she demanded as her uncle squealed and tried to wiggle away, though somehow he wasn't able to escape the grip of a seven year old.

 

Suddenly he reared up snatched her into his arms. They shot off the floor, spinning in dizzying circles, laughing loud enough her brother and sister came running to see what the commotion was and promptly leapt onto their uncle to join the game.

 

 

Most of them forgot about the game as they got older. There were other games to play, that didn't require stuffed toys or throwing things in the house (which their father definitely disapproved of), other things that needed attention, and slowly it just sort of...faded out.

 

 

Acacia was twenty one years old, and three months ago had been attacked.

 

And this time, she hadn't come out of it unscathed. She was still getting used to having only one eye, though her collection of fancy eye patches was already impressive, and far outstripped her g-grunkle's.

 

Most of them were dealing with the attack and starting to accept the new normal – all save G-grunkle Stan, who blamed himself for it, since it was his old enemies that had hurt his grandchild, and her Uncle, who was still angry with himself for being technically omnipotent and yet unable to spare her pain.

 

Well...Grunkle Stan was in her mom's capable hands. Her uncle, though...he was currently hovering in the corner of the tiny living room of the trailer Acacia shared with her fiancee (and she still wasn't over that word, _fiancee,_ she had a fiancee now) looking like a velvet portrait of a particularly sad big-eyed kitten.

 

And Acacia had nearly had enough of it. She gripped the sides of the cardboard box she was sorting (her mom had sent it up, a sort of care package mixed with apology for not dealing with Uncle Dipper just yet and letting him hover in Acacia's house) and tried to ignore the mopey demon in the room.

 

It wasn't easy, since mopey demon left a heavy feel to the air and a scent like the air just before rain, but Acacia had practice. Uncle Dipper wasn't making the walls run with anything yet, so she was just going to keep ignoring him.

 

Her hand hit something soft in the box, and she felt a rush of fondness as she pulled out Bob, her big green moose. Acacia had left him behind in Gravity Falls when she headed to college, but good old mom, she understood just how helpful a stuffed bed buddy could be, even when you had a living one already sharing your bed.

 

Suddenly hit with nostalgia and mischief, Acacia aimed at her uncle and let Bob fly.

 

The physical therapy really was helping – she smacked him flat in the chest, sending the unsuspecting Dipper into a spin, complete with yelping and flailing.

 

Acacia cackled as her uncle flailed, wings flapping and making the spin worse. Finally he dropped to the ground, flipping himself over so he was crouched on all fours like the kitty he was so often teased about being.

 

The moping was gone, replaced by a spark of mischief in those inhuman eyes as he looked at Acacia.

 

He grinned, pupils blown wide, and gave a little butt wiggle before pouncing on his still laughing niece.

 

The all-out tickle war that ensued was filmed by Reina, to send to the rest of the family later.

 

Mabel especially liked the part where Acacia pinned her uncle down and made him giggle until he cried.

 

 

Hank glanced down at the stuffed pink dog in his hands and back up at his grinning sister. “Will, not that I don't appreciate you bringing Leviathan up, but why...?”

 

Her grin spreading, Willow wrapped an arm around her brother and turned him to look into the living room, where Lucy Ann and Uncle Dipper were unintentionally (mostly) terrifying some of Hank's Dinner Crew (who were still not a mafia, thank you).

 

“I triple dog dare you to a round of SpinDip,” she whispered. “You know you wanna...”

 

Hank froze, hands tightening on the dog. Uncle Dipper's back was to him, and it would be a perfect shot...but no, there was no good reason to, not in front of everyone, and that was a responsible thought, a 'the normal one' thought, and he was pitching Leviathan as soon as he realized that.

 

It impacted with the back of Uncle Dipper's head, squeaking out a “Reality is an illusion!” as it fell. Dipper pitched forward, arms spinning as he tried to catch his balance.

 

The Dinner Crew made various hisses, gasps, and indrawn breaths of shock and disbelief as Lucy Ann cackled.

 

Uncle Dipper's head spun 180 degrees, fangs bared in a terrifying grin his niblets recognized all too well. “Oh, you wan̸n͝a g͉͎̤̲̦̿̇ͬ͊̎̅͐o̠̻̩̟͇̩̜ͥͪ͜?” he demanded, and Hank and Willow grinned back.

 

“Bring it!” Willow challenged, and the game was on.

 

 

As it turned out, tiny vampiric fingers were downright evil when employed in tickle wars.

 

And daring a demon to a tickle war started by pitching stuffed things at said demon only enhanced Hank's reputation, to his disgust and his sister's delight.


	58. Halloween Horrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every Halloween costume ends up with a 'sexy' version.
> 
>  
> 
> No exceptions.
> 
>  
> 
> No. Exceptions.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/107286340413/i-bet-along-with-alcor-and-woodsman-halloween

 

Henry was in extra high spirits for this Halloween, and thoroughly enjoying himself with all the preparations that came with being a Pines.

 

Before coming to Gravity Falls, Halloween was something he could only watch other kids talk about at school and wish while knowing better than to ever bring it up. Halloweens with his parents were an opportunity for them to show everyone how much more righteous they were than the licentious, sinful crowds that celebrated, and he spent his Halloweens before his escape listening to his parents read religious denunciations of the holiday while his body throbbed from the latest beating, for anything from looking too closely at costumes to his dad finding candy in his backpack that a kind classmate had passed him.

 

But now, with a wife who was so into the holiday that she celebrated it twice a year, a grunkle who was even more into scaring kids, three teenagers who had taken a page from their mother's book when it came to dressing up in costumes and feeling shame about doing so, and a demon brother who was going to be able to come to the all evening, all town Halloween party and be corporal the whole time, what wasn't to enjoy?

 

Sure, he'd been hesitant the first few years, but, well...Mabel's enthusiasm was contagious, and she was loving every second of this.

 

And this year, everyone who was attending the town wide party was donating something to a deal meant to let Dipper stay at their party, where he wanted to be, instead of pulled away to random summons all night, like what happened on major events more and more as his name spread. With everyone donating something and all of them technically being part of the deal, it should be enough to block out the other attempts at dragging Dipper off. At least, they were all hopeful about the idea, Dipper more than anyone.

 

This particular store was one of those ones that only appeared around the first of October, migrant and transitory as the leaves scattered across its parking lot. This chain had started annually setting up camp in Gravity Falls despite the town's small size. Their enthusiasm for Halloween made up for size of the population, apparently.

 

Henry could hear the others debating the merits of different props an aisle or two over as he wandered. At the moment, it sounded like they were trying to decide between two different brands of fake blood, mostly the virtues of color vs viscosity vs liquidity, runny vs sticky. Henry shook his head and kept walking – who knew there were so many differences in fake blood?

 

And knowing them, they were just getting started. Sure, Mabel was going to be making as many of the decorations as she could (which was a terrifying amount, Dipper had to have done something to the storage part of the attic like he'd done to his hat for them to store that many decorations in there) but some things she still preferred to buy. Plus, these stores were fountains of inspiration.

 

Henry just hoped they'd avoid the gross-out scares altogether this year. Living with a demon made one a bit more immune to gore, but he'd had a hard time keeping his candy down on Summerween.

 

Then again, he wasn't big on the scares anyway...eh, he'd just trust Mabel. And Grunkle Stan.

 

With that thought in mind, Henry made his way towards the costume and prop side of the store, so he could avoid some of the grosser decorations. He was leaving the costume ideas to his wife, as usual. Mabel had better ideas than he did...even if they were sometimes a little embarrassing. She'd never crossed a line, though, and she did listen when he was uncomfortable. Still it never hurt to look around a little and see what was up for offer. Sometimes it was even pretty funny.

 

Henry rounded a corner only to find himself face to face with the 'demonic' costumes section. Managing to both grimace and roll his eyes – most of the 'demon' costumes hadn't changed from pre-Transcendence ideas yet, so they were almost all incredibly inaccurate, but between the demons that tried to challenge Dipper and Mabel's obsession with teasing Dipper with _Twin Souls_ , Henry had enough of even fake demons (save Dipper) – Henry started to leave the section. Then, out of the corner of his eye, a familiar name got his attention.

 

Knowing he was going to regret this, Henry turned back, got a good look at the display, and froze.

 

No. Just no. Please no. Someone please tell him he wasn't seeing what he thought he saw.

 

Dipper popped into existence beside him, his brother's distress enough to draw him from the mindscape to see what was wrong, no matter how minor the cause.

 

“Henry, what...no. Oh ̴h͞ell͏ ҉no̢,” he said when he saw what had upset his brother, dropping the reverb after a mild “Voice,” reminder from Henry, who was still staring in dismay at the racks of costumes, the gentle scold about using the demonic voice in public almost automatic at this point. “Nononono...”

 

Mabel, hearing her brother's voice and with her impeccable sense of timing, poked her head around the end of the aisle. Curious, she trotted up to see what had them both frozen, pausing to wave a hand in front of her brother's face.

 

She turned, and it took her approximately two seconds to see what had her brother and husband blue screening in the middle of the Halloween store.

 

Their mother's cackling laughter echoed in the nearly empty store and brought the triplets and Stan, who always rushed to see the object of mockery, running.

 

Mabel had already both snatched up both costumes, displaying them to her family the way her brother displayed his trophies after a Yggdrasil-fueled hunting run, cheerfully ignoring Dipper's groaned pleas for her to just _stop_.

 

Henry, meanwhile, had buried his burning face in his hands, as if not being able to see it would help.

 

Because there, in the demonic costume section, alongside the generic horns and tails and pitchforks, hung fairly inoffensive costumes declaring themselves to be “The Dreamwarper” and “Demon Lumberjack”.

 

It was obvious the names were chosen to be just generic enough they would have been able to claim they weren't _actually_ costumes of the fearsome demon and the new demonic creature that had recently been seen helping him.

 

The Dreamweaver package held a cheap, mass market quality 'suit' with fake claws and bat wings, tiny little floppy things, while a cheap jeans-and-flannel-with-ax-and-antlers sets made up the Demon Lumberjack, sets of clothes that vaguely resembled the ones Dipper and Henry favored and their general look. Both were vague enough that it wasn't something the maker would get in trouble, but it was still all too obvious who the costumes were meant to be.

 

If it were just those two costumes, the family would have had enough ammo for a week or more.

 

After all, _costumes?_ Of Henry and Dipper? People wanted to dress up as them for Halloween? Oh, the teasing potential there, completely separate from the teasing about Twin Souls cosplay.

 

But oh no. That wasn't enough. Not when the law of Halloween claimed there had to be a 'naughty' costume for every theme.

 

And there, in Mabel's hands, were the 'sexy' version of both costumes, the “Dreamy Demon” and “LumberHunk”.

 

Both costumes consisted of tiny little shorts...and little else.

 

The Dreamy Demon package held black shorts, pressed to resemble tuxedo pants, with a tailed bolero jacket to go over the sleeveless white tuxedo shirt, and the most ridiculous versions of Dipper's wings any of them had ever seen, tiny little glittery things pinned to the back of the jacket and meant to draw the eye. A tiny sequined top hat on a headband was included with the costume. (It suggested fishnets and platform shoes to complete the outfit, along with fake fingernails to resemble claws, and Stan was already cackling, laughing loudly about how someone in those shoes would be taller than the real Dipper.)

 

Henry's, though...the part of Dipper that wasn't already embarrassed as all hell resolved to do something extra nice for his brother later, like maybe find a drink at the party strong enough to destroy the memory.

 

Because the LumberHunk costume...there were tiny little denim shorts, and suspenders, with a set of headband antlers and a fake ax for the male version – and nothing else. The female version added plaid crop top, tied just below the bust, to the mix.

 

In both costumes, the shorts were short enough to barely count as shorts at all. The ones for the LumberHunk were worse than the Demon, since the Demon ones needed fabric enough for the crease, and the denim shorts were short enough that a pair of boxer shorts would have covered more.

 

 

Abruptly, Henry's hands dropped from his face. “Nope,” he said. “Nope. Not dealing with this. Nope.”

 

Making an abrupt about face, Henry started walking away, quickly, eating up ground with those long legs of his. Mabel tossed the costumes to her still giggling children, who continued to tease their uncle and laugh at his blushing dramatics, to run and catch up to her husband.

 

None of them could quite hear what she said to Henry, but if he was blushing before, it was nothing compared to how hard he was blushing now.

 

“Mabel, _no._ ”

 

“MABEL, _YES!_ ”


	59. Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper, his object form, and a summons.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/107506920443/fic-idea-dipdop-going-to-a-summon-in-object-form

 

Dipper didn't like his object form.

 

Admittedly, he didn't shift his shape as much as he knew he could – his physical form was created from his will, and he did sometimes change it unconsciously, making his wings bigger, a birthmark here, scab there, longer hair, what have you – but it nearly always was as close as he could manage to what he would have looked like, had certain things never happened.

 

Mabel loved it when he experimented, which was usually one of the few reasons he changed his shape. That, or pleading from the triplets, or a prank, or just a sudden, irresistible urge to find out just what he was capable of, vanity manifesting in a variety of ways. And...well, it was fun. To experiment, to push the limits, to see just what he could get away with, find out what felt comfortable, what forms gave him the heebie-jeebies or felt wrong, to play with a power that could be just plan fun and silly.

 

Most of the time, though...he found himself wanting that link, fragile and ephemeral and lie that it was, to what might have been, what humanity he might still have.

 

And his object form was far too close to a certain triangle for it to be fully comfortable, to make him feel anything but a desperate desire to claw his way out of that body and into a new form as fast as possible.

 

Every so often, though, he'd manage to get 'stuck' in a form, and, well...after awhile he just didn't care anymore. He still preferred to look human, and he avoided his object form as often as possible despite having mostly come to terms with it. It helped, a bit, that although he was gold and black he was a star, with tie and wings as well as his top hat, different enough that he could reclaim the form as his, and helped more that his sister claimed he was soft and squeezable as a plushie and proceeded to demonstrate that whenever she could.

 

All the help in the world didn't really make the form comfortable, but the call of shenanigans was strong. Stronger than his distaste for a form that was slowly becoming more his and less a reminder or things he'd rather forget.

 

Stronger still when he was both Pines and demon.

 

So when he felt the pull of a summons while he was still stuck in his object form, a shiny, glittery star with a single eye, black noodly pipe cleaner arms and legs and tiny little bat wings with a tiny bow tie and floating top hat to cap it all off, feeling both a little ridiculous, a little creeped out, and far too sparkly, well...fine.

 

Just...FINE. Fine.

 

Stuck as a questionably adorable, vaguely menacing one-eyed star with pipe cleaner limbs, itsy bitsy wings, teeny bow tie and ridiculously tiny top hat? Go to the summon as a questionably adorable, vaguely menacing one-eyed star with pipe cleaner limbs, itsy bitsy wings, teeny bow tie and ridiculously tiny top hat.

 

He let his current form dictate his entrance, appearing in a shower of sparkles and glitter, a show of fire and color more appropriate for a fireworks display than a demon summoning rather than his usual moving smoke and shadows. He had a feeling Mabel would have been proud.

 

And then demanded he replicate it for her next time she needed a dramatic entrance.

 

“Who Dares Summon Alcor the Dreambender?” he demanded, wincing internally. He'd forgotten that, while his voice still echoed with demonic reverb in this form, it was also tiny and squeaky and... and _cute_. Oh well. Stuck like this, roll with it. Fake it until you make it. “C'mon, I haven't got all day.”

 

...okay so maybe he was playing it up a little to distract them from his voice, but it was still really funny to see them all cowering away from the tiny star with wings.

 

...maybe that was why Bill...no. Nope nope stopping that thought right there.

 

If he could have, he would have raised an eyebrow at the still stammering cultists. He couldn't possibly be _that_ scary like this. He was a floating star with wings, for cripes' sake! Mabel kept grabbing and cuddling him like he was a stuffed toy when he got stuck like this! The triplets kept wanting to stick him on top of the Christmas tree!

 

...if these cultists were laughing at him there was going to be a problem. Mostly theirs. He may have been stuck as a sparkly star at the moment but he was still a demon, dammit.

 

His single eye roved over the cult, but they didn't seem inclined to laugh.

 

Well, fine. Better for them. He crossed his pipe cleaner arms, tapping an impatient finger against his arm and trying to ignore how the light he gave off flickered with his words. “Tick tock, you didn't buy enough of my time to waste it standing around gawping.”

 

“O-our deepest apologies, Dread Alcor, we were just...expecting...well...” one managed, and Dipper rolled his eye.

 

“You summoned a demon, buddy. If you're going to make a habit of this – and I don't recommend that, by the way – you're going to have to learn to roll with things. Now make me an offer already.”

 

It seemed like Dipper's impatience and obvious irritation was enough to prompt the cultist in front of Dipper to _finally_ get to the point.

 

Sheesh, you'd think they'd never seen a demon shaped like a pretty star before.

 

 

Fifteen minutes later, Dipper had dropped off his payment at the Library (Henry could get some use out of it, as could Stan, probably, and it wasn't like he needed physical stuff anymore, and this time what the cult had had to offer was purely practical, so why not actually use it) and had gone inside to start up a game of 'keep away' with the triplets, flitting about the room at top speed and staying just out of the reach of laughing teenagers.

 

If he was going to be stuck as floating star with wings for the rest of the day, then he was going to make the best of it, dangit.


	60. Siren's Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A group of sirens summon Alcor and try to sing him into submission. Key word: try.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/113927602958/fic-prompt-a-group-of-sirens-summon-alcor-and-try

 

 

Dipper swirled into corporeality and tried not to let his surprise show when he found himself on a beach, with his summoning circle dug into the sand. That seemed like a really, really bad idea, when one took into consideration both tides and the impermanence of sand...

 

Another circle surrounded the first. A circle of what seemed, at first glance, to be women, but a closer look showed the supernatural hiding under the skin. Feathers were mixed into the hair that dripped unceasingly with water on a few women, while others had scales covering patches of their bodies. Some had fins, others wings, but no matter which otherworldly attribute they had, each woman had at least one thing about her that marked her as non-human.

 

And they were all watching Dipper with hungry, inhuman eyes, while a few went as far as to openly lick their lips with anticipation as they eyed him like a piece of meat, giving a glimpse of teeth almost as sharp as Dipper's own.

 

In the few seconds it took for Dipper to recognize them as sirens (and begin to recoil from the way they were looking at him, with hunger and intent, dark and vicious and anticipatory), one of them, eyeing him more greedily than the rest, gave a little hand motion. As one, they all burst into song.

 

_Ooh – whoa – oh, Oh – whoa – oh_

_Ooh – whoa – oh, Oh – whoa – oh_

 

_Captured in the web of our song,_

_Soon we'll have you dancing along_

_Ooh – whoa – oh, Oh – whoa – oh_

_Surrender now to our desires,_

_Your situation's growing dire._

 

The song was dark and low, smokey and husky, the seductive sound of a singer late at night in a dimly lit bar who smiled at you with wicked promises in their eyes, music that enticed and cajoled, a deep, driving, compelling beat that wound its way through Dipper's body and thrummed even in his conjured bones. Stunned, he floated in the circle instead of following his initial instinct to blip away, listening with wide eyes and forgetting to breathe.

 

_Ooh – whoa – oh, Oh – whoa – oh_

_Ooh – whoa – oh, Oh – whoa – oh_

 

_You can't turn away,_

_Listen to what we say_

_Ooh – whoa – oh, Oh – whoa – oh_

_You'll never notice you fell_

_Now that you're under our spell..._

 

Recovering that first shock, Alcor relaxed inside the circle and listened politely, head tilted to the side as the song wound around him. It was quite pretty, really. It wasn't every day one got to hear sirens sing, which was almost too bad. It was just as magical as it was claimed to be. Magical enough to make him want to stay, despite the still eerily hungry eyes watching him, and listen to more.

 

_Captured by the sound of my voice,_

_Soon you'll find you don't have a choice._

_Ooh – whoa – oh, Oh – whoa – oh_

_You will do as we please,_

_Now fall down upon your knees._

 

Two of them looked nervous, their voices shaky and weak as they sang, a trembling descant to the throbbing, compelling beat of the rest. They clutched at each other, but despite their obvious misgivings they still eyed the demon in their midst hungrily and kept singing.

 

As Dipper looked around the group, one singer winked at him flirtatiously when he caught her eye, flipping back her hair and singing louder, keeping her eyes locked on him as she sang.

 

Another stepped closer to the circle, eyes fastened to Dipper, a smug smile stretching her lips as the music poured from her lips, fingers twitching as though eager to touch and take. Unconsciously Dipper's wings twitched closer to his body, defensively, against the hunger in her eyes.

 

_Ooh – whoa – oh, Oh – whoa – oh_

_Ooh – whoa – oh, Oh – whoa – oh_

 

_Feel the wave of sound,_

_as it ties you down_

_To us you are bound_

_In our will you'll drown_

 

The music tugged at him, strangely, with sensations that surged and ebbed that he couldn't put a name to. He wasn't quite sure what emotion or impulse they were trying to overcome him with, but it didn't seem to be finding a hold, despite the strength of their magic. It tugged and teased at him, silken caresses that tried to turn to chains but slipped away like water when its hooks found no purchase in ephemeral skin. He shrugged off the sensation and the threads of magic that tried to loop around his conjured body and sat back in mid-air to listen more comfortably.

 

_Close your eyes, now you need us_

_By you, we will be adored,_

_From now on, you will heed us_

_Now it's time for our reward!_

 

He wasn't sure if he was insulted they thought he'd be so weak a simple song would be enough to bind him, or flattered they'd try.

 

The hunger that never left their eyes, as if he were some kind of toy they couldn't wait to play with or meat they craved to devour, added a layer of 'mostly somewhat disturbed' to the mix.

 

_Nothing can stop us now!_

 

 

As the song wrapped up triumphantly, the sirens paused for breath, looking at him with eager anticipation. Dipper gave them a bright smile and applauded.

 

The looks around the circle were a study in shock, anger, and surprised gratification.

 

“Thank you, ladies. That was lovely,” he said, deciding to be generous. “You truly have a gift.” Then he let a shit-eating grin slide over his features and tipped his hat to them as he watched the dawning realization that their plan to ensnare a demon with song had failed bloom across their faces. “Moving on, shall we get down to  b̢us͜i̡ne̶̶̛s̛͞s͢͡ ?”

 

 

Despite his amusement at the time, Dipper regretted telling Mabel later, especially when she started teasing him about being so very dapper that 'all the hotties wanted a piece of him'.

 

It took a minute for what she meant, what they'd actually been trying to do, to finally click (and it would never have clicked at all if Mabel hadn't started teasing him).

 

But if what he remembered about sirens and their songs was correct, now that he had a minute to think it over...the ways they used seduction to hypnotize their victims into doing what they wanted, to bind them to doing their will or to entice them into drowning...and if that was how they were trying to ensnare him...with...well. No wonder it didn't work.

 

Using that to trap a demon? Really? Would that work on any demon?

 

And why him? Why was it always him?

 

Well, it wasn't like it would have worked either way, and he hadn't even noticed what they were doing at the time. So it didn't matter, right?

 

Even so, he wasn't going to stop blushing for a week, maybe more if Mabel didn't  _stop teasing him! Mabel come on!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shoutout here to tonithelibrarian for editing help, and to Sandr @thesleepiestsheepy for help with the lyrics and getting them to scan properly. :)


	61. The Edge with Acacia Pines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Acacia recording an entire series of jackass-esque videos of herself provoking and running away from a monster while Will and Hank scream in the background;jumping off a cliff while Will and Hank scream in the background;playing horrible potentially deadly pranks on the dread demon Alcor while Will and Hank scream in the background;dressing up as a cultist and holding a knife high above her head, over a tied up bully in the center of a pentagram while Will and Hank scream in the background...
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/108970596503/acacia-recording-an-entire-series-of-jackass-esque
> 
> Hc that acacia started her own web series called "the edge" that is basically jackass only 300 times more dangerous and it consists of her poking Alcor the Dreambender with a stick at least every third episode.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/109376002497/hc-that-acacia-started-her-own-web-series-called

 

**The Edge: Episode One**

 

_*video start*_

 

_*Video opens to a shot of ratty sneakers, quickly swinging up to a hand-lettered sign. The cardboard is covered with glitter and stickers, with “The Edge: Ep 1” written on it in large, purple letters.*_

 

_*The sign is dropped to reveal a widely grinning face, covered in freckles, crowned with a glowing halo of red curls*_

 

“You getting this, Hank?” * _The camera dips slightly, as if the person holding it nodded.*_ “Will, you ready? Okay – hey there viewers, and welcome to my new series, 'The Edge'! I'm Acacia, and I'll be your host and stuntwoman! We're going to start this series off strong, so with no further ado, let's get to it!”

 

_*The camera cuts out, only to refocus on a sunny clearing. There's a hammock strung between two trees, and what appears to be a man sleeping in it. Acacia's voice comes over the video, though the feed stays on the man in the hammock.*_

 

“See that there?” _*Acacia is obviously trying to be quiet, but she still speaks much too loudly for stealth.*_ “We're located in Gravity Falls, home of the famed demon Alcor the Dreambender, and that's the demon himself, taking a nap in the sunshine.”

 

_*The camera zooms in on Alcor, bringing the floating top hat, the claw tipped fingers and the fangs just visible inside his open mouth into focus. There's a small spill of golden drool at the corner of the snoozing demon's mouth, and he's obviously deep asleep, and just as obviously the real deal. The camera swings around to Acacia, who is holding a long stick and grinning in evil anticipation.*_

 

“He's not going to be sleeping much longer...” * _The announcement is made with a level of glee completely at odds with what the stick says she proposes to do.*_

 

_*Acacia creeps towards the sleeping demon on near silent feet, stick held low and attempting to stifle her giggles. The shot jiggles as she gets close, zooming in on the closing distance between human and demon.*_

 

_*The sleeping demon remains dead to the world.*_

 

_*Pausing a few feet away from the demon, Acacia eyes her stick. Slowly she extends her arm until the stick is barely an inch from the oblivious demon. Two voices, obviously Will and Hank, quietly start telling her not to do it, just as the viewers begin urging the same*_

 

_*Acacia gives the camera another shit-eating grin before firmly poking the Dreambender in the side with her stick, hard.*_

 

_*The demon jumps, landing back in the hammock for a split second before it upends, dumping him to the ground. Acacia laughs as the demon spits out a mouthful of grass, propping himself up on his hands and shaking his head, as if dizzy from the sudden wakening and surprise introduction to the ground.*_

 

_*Still grinning, Acacia reaches with the stick and pokes Alcor again, lighter this time, on the shoulder. His head whips around, glowing golden eyes wide. He bares his teeth, twisting to all fours, and wiggles like a cat about to pounce.*_

 

_*He pounces towards the teenager, who drops the stick and starts running. Willow and Hank begin screaming, falling back as the camera stays trained on Acacia, fleeing the demon who has left the ground and is zooming after her, taking to the air and gaining height, closing in with each passing second.*_

 

_*The video cuts out, replaced by a sign held by a disheveled Acacia. She's covered in scrapes and dirt, sticks and leaves in her hair, but still grinning, and seems relatively unhurt. The sign reads 'Thank you for watching! Please subscribe for more “The Edge” madness!' surrounded by yet more glitter and fancy stickers. The lighting is dim, with random beams of sunlight, and she's posing on her knees in front of planks of wood.*_

 

“That's it for episode one,” * _Acacia whispers, still holding her sign like a shield.*_ “We're... just going to chill under here for a bit until he calms down.”

 

“I'm gonna FIND YOU, kid!” * _rings out from above, and a shadow passes over the camera. Acacia is quiet, shushing the other two silently, and the video stays quiet for a tense minute longer until Acacia leans in closer.*_

 

“Thanks for watching 'The Edge', see you next week!”

 

_*The sound of ripping wood tears through the air, and bits of wood fall down on the teens as light floods their area. The camera swings up to a close up of Alcor, who is leaning over their hiding space, grinning manically.*_

 

“Found you~!”

 

_*Static. Video ends*_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to try something a little different with this one. I hope it worked for everyone.
> 
> Shoutout to tonithelibrarian, who again edited for me. :)


	62. Tween Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Dipper did the 12-year-old-form tactic, but the summon turned out to be a group of 13-year-olds having a sleepover? They wouldn't summon him for the usual reason. 
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/110255951921/what-if-dipper-did-the-12-year-old-form-tactic

 

Dipper had been (yanked out of reality at someone else's whim, trapped in a circle, pulled away from what he was doing without so much as a by-your-leave) answering summonses long enough now, he had begun to develop a sense and feel for what was waiting for him on the other side of the circle.

 

It didn't happen for every summons, nor was it a very good feel, and it didn't mean he could skip out on the summons if it was strong enough, but a feel all the same. A faint tickle, an idea of 'this is gonna be a bad one', or 'amateur' or 'desperate, and only if it wasn't so fast and hard he didn't get a chance to 'taste' it, but it was still there.

 

So when he felt the pull of a summons that screamed “The instructions for me came from a Twin Souls novel!” he was already fairly put out about it. He changed his appearance with barely a thought as he was pulled from the Mindscape, refusing to play along this time.

 

Which meant it was a tiny, twelve year old demon that swirled into existence, one not dressed in formal wear but instead in the shorts, t-shirt, puffy vest, and trucker hat from that summer before everything changed. The outfit made him look even younger, and Dipper very well knew it.

 

Already puffed with annoyance, wings flared and hair poofed around his head like an angry cat's fur, Dipper was thrown from his prepared indignant speech when he popped into the circle and found himself looking down at his summoners – while he was only floating a foot off the floor and twelve to boot.

 

There was a perplexed silence as both demon and half dozen preteens stared at each other. Dipper felt his ears twitch and fought the urge to cover them, the awkwardness he hadn't felt about his demonic appearance for ages suddenly renewed by currently appearing twelve again.

 

Then the squealing started, high and delighted. Immediately Dipper clapped his hands to his ears to try and block it out, eyes screwing shut as he recoiled from the sound. Despite that, a few sentences, most along the theme of “OHMIGOSH he's so _cute!_ ” snuck their way through the frail barrier.

 

The noise died down to giggles, and Dipper gingerly lifted one hand, cracking the eye on that side open. “...why have you summoned me?” he asked cautiously. Preteens or not, this was still a Twin Souls inspired summon, and he had vivid memories of how Mabel had been at that age.

 

Very, very vivid memories.

 

Now the girls looked a little sheepish. “ Wellll...Lizzie's sister was talking about doing it next week at her sleepover,” one of them, a little girl with two adorable little afro poofs, admitted reluctantly. “An' something about dipping sauces? An' we read her books an' wanted to meet you too. An' we heard sometimes you liked to come to sleepovers so maybe you'd like to be invited to ours instead, 'cuz ours is gonna be more fun.”

 

“...her books,” Dipper said flatly, silently praying they weren't what he knew they were. If it was, he was going to have to have a little talk with the people at next week's Cult of Dippingsauce meeting...one of the girls proudly held up a well-worn copy of Twin Souls, and Dipper lost it.

 

“Whhhhhhyyy...” Dipper moaned, burying his face in his hands. “Why do they keep doing this...”

 

“So...I guess you don't want to play spin the bottle, then,” another one said, sounding surprisingly disappointed.

 

Dipper just groaned again and huddled deeper into his wings. “No. I. No. Definitely not,” he moaned. Taking a deep breath, he raised his head, unconsciously flaring his wings a little to the girls' delight.

 

“I cannot even...do you have _any_ clue just _how bad_ of an idea this was?” he demanded, straightening up out of the ball to lecture them and crap he was already mirroring the pose Henry had used when he was scolding the triplets (or Dipper) but it was working, twelve year old form or not. “I'm a _demon_. This circle wouldn't stop me for an instant from doing anything I wanted...and no, it wouldn't be anything like that damn book!” he added when a couple of the girls started to look starry eyed at the idea. “This isn't some fun little game!”

 

To their credit, the girls did start to look abashed as Dipper wrapped up his short lecture with a huff.

 

“So...you don't wanna stay, then?” one girl asked, sounding half disappointed and half hopeful that he'd change his mind, as she looked up at Dipper pleadingly. “We've got snacks, and ice cream, and movies, an' games, an' we were going to do makeovers and nails later...”

 

One girl held up a copy of ' _Mystery: Duck-tective Edition'_ while another held up the nail polish and makeup and a third shook a few bags of candy and snacks hopefully.

 

After a few moments of wrestling with the pros and cons of just getting the heck out of there, Dipper cautiously asked, “...no kissing style games?”

 

“Well, we _were_ thinking about playing Truth or Dare,” the girl who seemed to be in charge said thoughtfully. “Just about anything goes in Truth or Dare.”

 

Dipper snorted back a laugh. “You know what? Okay,” he said, floating over the edge of the circle. “Sleepover time. I'll stick around in exchange for snacks, to stay corporeal. What movies you got there?”

 

 

Half an hour later they were all eating ice cream and doing each other's nails (the girls were loving Dipper's claws, and were having fun doing designs, and it was...nice) while a movie played in the background.

 

Best Twin Souls inspired summons ever.


	63. One Demon Band

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vignettes of Dipper and his Sousaphone, inspired by these prompts/headcanons: 
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/141629959993/we-need-dipper-playing-the-devil-went-down-to#notes
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/106482322538/summonings-only-work-for-a-limited-time-right#notes
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/105883561004/headcanon-that-alcor-will-occasionally-show-up-to#notes

 

Now that Dipper was a demon, and he had a reputation to maintain, he felt he needed to look and act the part. Dignified, suave, cultured, with a hint of menace and danger.

 

There was one slight problem with keeping up that facade, however, and it boiled down to this – once a dork, always a dork.

 

Oh, he could manage it when he was 'working', but it shattered soon after getting home, around people he could trust.

 

And while Dipper loved playing the violin, which could be highly dignified, a respected and cultured instrument, and he enjoyed playing it for his family, well...he also loved his old sousaphone and no amount of faked dignity could hide it.

 

Luckily, the triplets liked it when their silly uncle got out the 'big blorty-horn', as they called it. (They were four. Mabel thought it was adorable, and so did the rest of the family, they just weren't as vocal about it as she was.)

 

They loved his violin, too, but most of the time, it was for soothing, for lullabies and nighttime. The sousaphone, on the other hand, was loud, and obnoxious, and perfect for entertaining toddlers.

 

Dipper was in the middle of giving his stars their own personal sousaphone concert (with Stan providing backup in the form of sarcastic commentary from inside the house each time there was a pause) when he felt the pull of an unavoidable summons.

 

He paused the song, and his stars, already so wise, watched him trustingly. “I'll be right back,” he promised them, trying to keep the irritation from his voice. He wasn't angry at them, after all. “We'll finish then.”

 

“Not if I have anything to say about it!” Stan yelled from inside the Shack. Dipper stuck his tongue out in Stan's direction as the kids giggled and blipped away to the sound of their laughter.

 

He didn't put down the sousaphone.

 

In fact, he started blowing on it before he started manifesting in the circle, so there wouldn't even be a split second of silence, starting this off with a massive fart-like note, so loud the building and several around it shook from the force.

 

He launched into “Devil Went Down to Georgia” just for the hell of it as the echoes of that first blast faded away, and watched the seven robed men and women around the circle as they recovered from that first blast of sound and stared at him in various stages of bafflement, blank confusion, anger, or temporary deafness.

 

It would have been funny, but Dipper was still irritated about his time with the kids being interrupted, so he kept the deadpan look set on his face. He stared them down, a demon black as the void covered in golden brickwork, staring at his summoners with featureless golden eyes and expressionless face, blowing hard as he could into a sousaphone while little puffs of blue fire poofed out of the end with each note.

 

The sacrifice the summoners had used to force Dipper here had bought them fifteen minutes of his time, not his attention. Technically, he had to hear them out. Well, they tried talking. That counted.

 

Not his fault they weren't as loud as a sousaphone.

 

After the world's longest rendition of 'Devil Went Down to Georgia', complete with improvised solos for both the Devil and Johnny, Dipper lowered the sousaphone and took a bow, seconds before the summons ran out and he blipped on back home without having heard a single word they said.

 

Confusing arrogant summoners always brightened Dipper's day.

 

* * *

 

 

Lucy Ann nearly went into hysterics the first time she caught Dipper practicing the sousaphone, she was laughing so hard.

 

To be fair, he did look pretty silly at that moment, looking like he was one note away from passing out and with his wings flapping and twitching with each note. And a demon with a sousaphone was an odd, unconventional, and downright strange thing to see. But Lucy Ann's reaction each time was the slightest bit overboard.

 

Just a bit.

 

The way Mt. Everest was a bit of a climb.

 

At least, until he snuck up behind her and gave an extra loud _blort_ , one so deep and loud it shook the house, the huge house that the Dinner Crew had finally bought to house most of them plus those who needed a place to stay. Lucy Ann jumped almost six feet up in the air, with a screech that none of them had thought she was capable of.

 

She was chasing the cackling Dipper almost before she landed, cursing and swearing revenge.

 

 

* * *

 

_It has been noted that Alcor, unlike many demons, seems to refuse to specialize. Although technically a dream demon, this particular demon also deals in knowledge, candy, and various forms of media.(See appendix A for a list of various books, movies, television, and games Alcor has referenced in various summonses, and Chapter 6 for information on “The Demon's League”, the Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons gaming group that at one point claimed to have Alcor as a regular player.)_

 

_In addition, the demon has been seen playing instruments, which until this point had been considered the sole realm of the rare music based demons or confined to folk legend and song. He seems to prefer the violin, but as of late has been seen more and more recently at summons playing a sousaphone._

 

_It is unclear where he acquired said instrument or why a demon would choose such an instrument. Studies are proceeding, cautiously, as to what his motivations may be._

 

_If summoning the Dreambender, it may be wise to invest in a set of earplugs, in case he is irritated and decides to use the sousaphone to make that displeasure clear._

 

* * *

 

Dipper sort of forgot about his instruments for a time. The Dreambender was known to play the violin, and only occasionally pull out the sousaphone, only often enough that in time it was more an urban legend than fact. So little wonder that when he forgot himself, or spiraled into depression, or lost himself to rage, that he would forget about the fun instrument, when he barely remembered the dignified instrument that was his first choice as an outlet for his emotions.

 

Then there was Lionel, and Belle, and being human again – sort of.

 

And the opportunity he'd once almost had but missed out on, one of many thanks to the Transcendence, the chance to be a high school band geek, and to dig out the sousaphone again.

 

He didn't care if it was dorky, he'd let Belle tease him all she liked about being the big, scary demon with the big, dorky horn, if it meant taking back this one thing he'd wanted so many lifetimes ago and been denied.

 

And if summoners interrupted his practice time, they'd just have to deal with what they got. Omniscience didn't include with muscle memory, and he needed his practice, dammit, summons or no summons.

 

Besides, the looks on their faces when he showed up with the horn were still priceless.

 

* * *

 

Dipper was floating (and wasn't it nice he didn't have to pretend anymore, some small part of his mind whispered, that the people important to him knew what he was and...well, it wasn't that they didn't care, but they accepted him, that he had family again) while watching Michael and Maritza as they went over a school project.

 

Maddie didn't have that class, so she was sitting at the table having a snack and petting Lepus while giving commentary on the work in progress.

 

The only thing disturbing the tranquil scene was a prodding at the back of Dipper's mind, a tugged sensation of a summons. He'd been ignoring it, preferring the company of his friends and children over cultists, but it was getting stronger. Pretty soon, he'd have to answer it, or he'd be dealing with the demonic equivalent of a migraine. It was too strong to just ignore or send the answering machine to, the kind of summon where he had to answer and stay for awhile to hear them out.

 

Didn't mean he had to like it, though.

 

Already flipping through his options for making this summons short and getting out of there fast while not having to hear them out or deal with them, Dipper leaned over and ruffled Maddie's hair.

 

She batted at his hands, all pretend affront while Michael and Maritza laughed. “I'll be back soon,” Dipper promised. “Got another summons.”

 

Maritza glanced up at him with a knowing look in her eyes. “Let us know how you mess with them this time,” she requested, and Dipper laughed. Maddie and Michael shared her grins, old enough and now used to Dipper's shenanigans enough to enjoy the stories of when he wreaked havoc.

 

He gave her finger guns and winked, and they laughed at the old-fashioned gesture even as the demon disappeared.

 

 

Dipper swirled into existence in a swirl of black smoke and the blast of a sousaphone.

 

The looks on his summoner's faces were hilarious, and he messed up a few notes trying to hold back laughter and play at the same time. Still, his face stayed blank and he played loudly, too loudly for the summoners to be heard, though they gave it a try.

 

It had been far, far too long since he'd played with the sousaphone. It was time to start reminding people of just what lengths he was capable of going to when he was having one of his Good Periods and didn't want bothered thank you.

 

He couldn't wait to tell the kids about this.

 

Alcor the Prankmaster was _back_.


	64. Naked Summonings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posted a challenge on tumblr (http://phenyxsnest.tumblr.com/post/147966349320/send-me-two-characters-or-more-and-a-prompt-and) and got #50 - “Why does anyone have to be naked?”

Dipper snapped into existence, appearing in a burst of flame and roaring fire, head thrown back dramatically and arms thrown wide.

 

He opened his eyes, filled with fire and flame, and leveled his glare at the cultists who had summoned him. “ **WHO DARES...** ” he began, only to screech and clap his hands over his eyes as he got a good look at the cult surrounding him. “AGH NO WHY!”

 

There was an awkward silence for a few moments, broken only by the crackle of the dying flames from Alcor's entrance and his quiet moans.

 

The man standing in the center cleared his throat. “Oh great Alcor?”

 

“W̡h͘a̕t,” the demon demanded, face still buried in his hands and refusing to look up, ears folded back flat on his head.

 

The man coughed again but continued on, only a little daunted by the Great Alcor's reaction. “We have summoned you for knowledge, to ask that you answer our questions truthfully. We crave knowledge about reincarnation, about Mizar. In exchange, we offer you these books we have gathered, rare and sentimental, knowledge for knowledge.”

 

“Yeah̡, ye͝aḩ,͢ t̸hat'͠s g͢r͢e͟at̴,̸” the demon said, almost wailing as he asked, “But͟ ́wh́y͡ di͘d͡ ̕anyoné ha̢v̀e̸ to ͝b̕é ̛nak͠ed͘?̢ ”

 

“Um...nudity is our purest form, the state in which we enter this world, so it is only right when we strive for perfection that we...”

 

“W͝e͘'re also̷ covered̢ ̴in ͟bļood͢ whe͝n͝ ͠we'͞re҉ ͝born̸,͡” Alcor snapped, lifting his head though still keeping his hands pressed tight to his eyes. “W̴hic̵ḩ,҉ ̀by ͏the w͘ay, i͞s NO̡T̛ enc̨ourag͞e͡m̕e͘nt to ͢try ̧t͘hat̕!̕ Ugh.̕ N̡o̴p͞e. Not doing this. Tr̴y͠ s̶umḿonin͟g͘ ̴m̶e͝ aga̶i͠n a͜f͝ter͟ ̷y͘o͢u̢ fin͝d̀ sơme c̶l͝o̢thes. A̡l҉co̕r ͞ _out._ ”


	65. The Need for Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for talk of self-harm.
> 
> One word prompt: Touch

 

Of all the things Dipper expected to have problems with after turning into a demon, _touch_ had been at the bottom of the list. 

 

Mastering his powers? That, he'd expected to have trouble with. Being unseen and unheard? Oh, he'd figured out he'd hate that within a few hours of finding out he was incorporeal. Demonic instincts? Took him about five seconds to hate that with the burning passion of a thousand desert suns.

 

But touch...he hadn't expected that to be so hard to deal with. To not be able to touch anything but his sister, not even physical objects; unable to feel the breeze, the earth beneath his feet when he tried to land...

 

He'd taken it for granted when he was human, like most anyone would, so it hadn't kicked in at first just how hard it was to not have something as basic as touch anymore.

 

Mabel helped, he wouldn't deny that. She helped more than he could ever express, with her insistence on still touching him as though everyone could see him, as though he were still human, still normal.

 

And, while he still wasn't able to turn corporeal for more then a minute or two yet, being able to move physical objects, slowly and at random, helped too. Except that it freaked their parents out, so he didn't dare try and practice often. They tried to hide it, but he could tell.

 

It was a lot easier to accept Mabel's casual touches once they were back in Gravity Falls and everyone could accept that he was there even if they couldn't see him, and didn't act like Mabel was crazy for poking at and throwing her arm over empty air. In fact, most of the time, they acted as if they could see and hear him as clearly as she did.

 

Heck, Lazy Susan even brought pancakes and pie to their table for him when they went to the diner. If he could, he would have hugged her for that.

 

Mabel did it for him.

 

She still gave the best rib-cracker hugs, too. And, well...maybe Dipper needed them a little more often now than he really wanted to admit.

 

The problem was...sometimes, even that wasn't enough.

 

He couldn't explain it to Mabel, didn't even want to try. All she'd hear was that she somehow wasn't enough, and that wasn't it, not at all! He loved his sister, but what he wanted, needed...

 

There were time when he was numb and he just wanted to  _hurt_ .

 

Mabel's touches were good, but they were gentle. Even her rib-cracking hugs. Well, okay, there were sisterly smacks and pokes (and when Mabel smacked for real, she smacked _hard_ ), but...

 

Sometimes, they just  _weren't enough_ .

 

He tried hurting himself, once or twice, when Mabel couldn't see. It...it hurt; not the hurt he wanted – he couldn't bring himself to hurt himself like that part of him wanted to, no matter how much part of him craved it – but, somehow, it helped. The pain reminded him that he was still there, he wasn't just some remnant of himself that Mabel clung to, that it was all still real, and took away some of the numbness that overcame him at times. It made the little voice that laughed how  _ pain was hilarious _ and that  _ he deserved it _ stop, even if only for a little while, and reminded him that he could be physical, could be affected by the real world, that  _ he _ was real.

 

But it still wasn't enough. It helped, but it just wasn't enough. Doing it to himself, he could almost trick himself into believing it was something he'd imagined, and it didn't ground him the way it whispered it would.

 

It didn't stop him from giving in at times, even though he tried not to.

 

It was like a hunger, and he hated it, every moment that he wished someone would hurt him. He'd never wanted pain before – touch, yes, casual, loving touch, but not pain, never pain, and he didn't want to crave a painful touch.

 

He couldn't ask Mabel to hurt him. He just  _couldn't_ . She wouldn't understand, and he couldn't ask that of her – besides, it would just scare her. Hell, it scared him, that he suddenly felt the need for pain to remind him that he was real!

 

 

As the years went by, it got better. Mostly. Or at least, Dipper thought it was.

 

Then it would all come crashing down again and he'd find himself in the kitchen, forks embedded deep into his skin, golden blood staining the silver and dripping onto the floors.

 

His three little stars found him once, when the impulse got to be too great to resist.

 

They hugged him a lot more after that. And the urge for painful touch was drowned by their sticky, enthusiastic hugging.

 

Between them, Mabel, and the occasional punch to the arm or noogie from Grunkle Stan, Dipper finally had the touch he so craved. Sometimes, the urge would come back, but it was never as strong as the simple wish to be touched, and a loving touch always won the battle with pain.

 

And then there was Henry, who none of them had realized was nearly as touch starved as Dipper. Who both Dipper and Mabel could sprawl across when the mood struck, cuddle against his side while watching TV as he read and stroked their hair absently. Who acted annoyed when Dipper perched on his shoulders or sprawled across his lap or clung to his back while high, but who tolerated it and whose colors said he liked the attention (to a point).

 

There were still times when Dipper craved the pain, but he didn't need it anymore, not with so many touches. Not when there were hugs, and hair petting, noogies and more hugs to be had. At times, it was enough to make him feel almost human again.

 

 

But no matter how much he craved touch, he'd never want it enough to appreciate, enjoy, return, or do anything but outright reject any touch by a Twin Souls fan.

 

He may have loved kisses, giving and receiving, but that only counted for family, not some random Twinner who thought it was okay to grab his collar and go for a kiss instead of a handshake to seal the deal. Seriously who the hell thought that was okay? Where the hell did that come from?

 

Well, at least he had to consolation of knowing she likely enjoyed the numb lips he left behind as much as he'd enjoyed that brief peck. She should get the feeling back in about a month.

 

 

Years passed, and so did his family.

 

Decades would go past with barely a touch, and Dipper forgot how much he craved that contact.

 

Then he would make a friend. Family would be reincarnated. Someone would prompt him, in a kinder moment, to comfort them.

 

And he would remember.

 

He would remember what it felt like to be touched, not in anger or hate or with the intent to harm, but with care. With love. By a friend.

 

And if that sometimes made him a little clingy, a little desperate, well. He couldn't actually save it up, but he'd certainly try.

 

Because missing touch was one of the hardest parts of being a demon, sometimes.


	66. Family Portrait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For one of her art classes, Acacia has to paint her family in a pose she thinks describes their personalities. Problem is, her teacher is heavily Pro-Nat. The fix for Dipper? In exchange for all of Acacia's ice cream privileges for the next three days, Dip makes some paints to use so that whenever the teacher looks at the painting straight on, it looks like a normal family with only humans in it. But out of the corner of his eye the family is at its most terrifying. He resigns after finals.  
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/110686815318/for-one-of-her-art-classes-acacia-has-to-paint
> 
> Once again, shout out to tonithelibrarian for editing! :)

 

Dipper was floating over the Library, most decidedly not watching and waiting for Henry's truck to come down the lane of course not he wasn't that overprotective.

 

Finally, the truck came trundling out from between the trees, pulling to a stop outside the Library and letting out four of his favorite people in the world.

 

The younger two triplets darted into the house, laughing, while the oldest trailed behind her father, kicking at the dirt morosely.

 

So, being the good uncle he was, Dipper flipped over and drifted down to see what was wrong.

 

“Hey there sweetie, what's got you so down?” he asked, dropping to hover upside down in front of his niece.

 

The side of Acacia's mouth quirked up, but she remained stubbornly angry. She stormed up the stairs at the back of the Library to flop down huffily into the old couch that still sat there, huffing and crossing her arms, letting her backpack thud onto the porch.

 

Even the thud sounded indignant.

 

Henry, who had paused in the doorway, caught Dipper's eye and nodded ever so slightly at his daughter, letting Dipper know without words that yes, he did know why Acacia was so angry, but it was something he wanted Dipper to talk to her about. He disappeared inside the house, leaving the pair outside alone to talk.

 

With a little somersault (that he would never admit was at least one third because he just wanted to, the other two thirds were for the giggle it pulled from a reluctant Acacia) Dipper plopped down onto the couch as much as an immaterial being could.

 

“So...ready to talk?” he asked.

 

Acacia pouted, but with a temper like hers silent pouting didn't last long. “It's so stupid!” the fifteen year old burst, punching the couch hard enough dust and stuffing flew. “Do you remember Mr. Neely?” she asked, turning to look up at her uncle.

 

Dipper paused, taking a moment to think. “Ah...the new art teacher, right? Just transferred to your school? What's wrong with him, I thought you liked his art?”

 

“I _did!_ ” Acacia snarled, sulking harder and burrowing down into the couch. “Then he turned out to be awful! He bullied all the preter kids into dropping his class! But no one believes us, he's just so racist they were scared to stick around, but it wasn't anything we could prove!”

 

Dipper snarled as well, wondering why it was that pro-nats insisted on getting jobs in and around Gravity Falls, the center of the Transcendence and obvious center for supernatural living.

 

Acacia shoved herself out of her seat, pacing back and forth in front of the porch, unable to sit still while so angry any longer. “And now! Now we're supposed to paint our family portraits, okay Uncle Dipper? But we have to paint them to 'describe them in art, depict their true selves',” she said, striking a pose and obviously quoting her overly dramatic teacher. “How'm I supposed to do that when he hates everything even close to the preternatural, Uncle Dip? Without hiding what we're all about? I can't paint mom or dad like they are or even put you in there at all or he'd try to call CPS on us or something! UGH!”

 

She flopped back down onto the couch with the groan, grabbing a cushion and screaming into it.

 

Dipper thought while his niece screamed into her chosen pillow. There had to be some way around this so she could paint her family the way she wanted while still passing...and not having to lie in art form. Acacia could spin a tale with the best of them (thank you Grunkle Stan) but she took her art seriously, and to know she was lying about the most basic aspects of her family...

 

Screamed out, Acacia let the pillow drop. “What am I gonna _do,_ Uncle Dipper?”

 

“I'm not sure yet, Pole Star, but don't give up. We'll think of something, I promise,” Dipper said, ruffling her hair. She made a face but didn't protest. “When do you have to have this thing ready by? Do you have to paint it at school?”

 

“I have a week,” she said, still a little sullen but more hopeful now that her uncle was helping with a solution. “And I'm supposed to paint it at home, so I can get all of you to model for me.”

 

 

By dinner, the rest of the family had heard of Acacia's predicament. They hadn't come up with a useful solution yet, though some of the (not very ethical) suggestions had at least lightened Acacia's mood somewhat.

 

 

It was Mabel, sitting out on the porch after dinner, who came up with the idea. “It's too bad she can't just paint it so you see one thing straight on, and another from the side. Like those stickers I used to have, remember those broseph? I should get more of those...”

 

Dipper stared at her, eyes going wide, for long enough that Mabel finally gave him a little poke to see if he'd bluescreened on her.

 

A grin spread across Dipper's face, too wide for a human's face to contain, and he grabbed his sister for a hug. “You're a genius!” he exclaimed with an extra squeeze. “Gotta go talk to Acacia!” he said in a rush before disappearing with a little pop.

 

For a few seconds, Mabel was tempted to follow and see just what her brother was up to. Then she grinned and went off to bother Grunkle Stan instead.

 

Dipper wouldn't get Acacia into trouble.

 

...at least, not on purpose.

 

It would be more fun to wait for the fireworks.

 

 

Dipper popped into existence upside down in front of his niece, who squeaked and clutched at the tree she was perched in. She glared at her uncle as soon as her hold was secure, but he was too happy to notice.

 

“Got a solution to your problem, Pole Star!”

 

Acacia's glare morphed into a grin, one that was decidedly from the Pines side of the family. “You're going to get Mr. Neely fired?” she asked hopefully.

 

“Well...not yet,” Dipper said, considering it. “But it might make him wish he were. Or make him retire. Or just push him deeper into pro-nat radical. Hard to tell with these things.” Leaning in closer, he explained his idea. It would take all Acacia's ice cream privileges for the next three days, he made sure she knew up front, but by the time he'd finished explaining her eyes were sparkling and it was clear she felt the trade was worth it.

 

With a whoop, Acacia launched herself out of the tree and into her uncle's arms, spinning them in midair as they cackled.

 

 

It took Acacia the entire week to paint her family, but she wanted to get it just right. Add in that, with her uncle's special paints, she was painting two portraits for the price of one, and she had a lot to do.

 

Thankfully, her family was willing (or could be bribed) into sitting for her, even if she occasionally had to resort to pictures when it took too long.

 

They all agreed, though, that the finished product was possibly Acacia's best work yet, especially when viewed from the side. Grunkle Stan already had a spot picked out to hang it after she brought it home.

 

 

Mr. Neely tilted his head, examining the painting Acacia Pines had brought in. The Pines family smiled back at him, four adults and three teenagers (since Acacia had gone the extra mile and included herself in the portrait).

 

The girl's uncle and mother stood flanking her father, arms around the tall man towering over them and mischievous smiles in place. Her father looked quietly happy, while her great uncle, leaning on a strange, 8-ball cane to the left of the uncle, looked almost as hell raising as the girl's mother and uncle. The triplets stood in front of the adults arm in arm, a bundle of red hair and freckles and mile wide grins.

 

There was skill there, especially for a fifteen year old.

 

He turned to congratulate Acacia and paused. For a second there, it had looked like the painting was covered in blood...

 

Stepping back, Mr. Neely looked again, harder. But no, a group of normal humans smiled innocently back at him. Shaking his head, he marked down Acacia's A on his sheet and went on the next painting. He had to be working too long, that was all. Imagine, him seeing blood and demons in a teenager's family portrait...

 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the smiling face of Acacia's uncle covered in blood, bared teeth long and sharp, eyes inhumanly colored and a floating top hat hovering over his curly brown hair, the hand around Mr. Pines' shoulder suddenly topped with long, sharp, bloodstained, claws. The woman was just as bad, with a glass and nail studded bat in her free hand, the father's hair topped with antlers decorated with fresh, bloody hands hung from string like grisly trophies and bloody ax over his shoulder.

 

The triplets were wreathed in blue flame, the great uncle's smile suddenly cunning and vicious, and all of them covered in more blood.

 

When he whipped his head around for another look, though, they were back to human. A fairly normal, happy family. Slowly, he backed away, eying the painting distrustfully.

 

When it did nothing, he turned to the next painting, refusing to look at the Pines painting again.

 

 

The paintings hung in the classroom until the end of the school year, when the students would take all of their art home with them.

 

As the only Pro-Nat teacher currently in Gravity Falls high school, maybe it wasn't so surprising that Mr. Neely was the only one to see something 'off' about Acacia Pines' family portrait.

 

He complained of it over and over – how Acacia's uncle looked ready to rip his throat out, how the whole thing was covered in blood, how uneasy the whole thing made him feel, and stronger rants when no one would listen to him, bordering closer to raving when no one seemed to believe him – but no one else saw anything odd about the painting.

 

Or would admit to it, at any rate.

 

He certainly avoided her family during the few events at the school they attended, and looked about one wrong move from passing out during meet-the-parents night.

 

Then, one week before the end of the school year he ran out of the classroom, screaming about 'cursed paintings' and blood and teeth and glowing golden eyes.

 

The kids had a substitute for that last week, and no one was particularly surprised (or upset) when Mr. Neely resigned from Gravity Falls High at the end of the year.

 

Most of them just wondered what took him so long.

 

Honestly, after Mrs. Brower, and now Mr. Neely, how many Pro-Nats were they going to have to drive out of Gravity Falls before they got the hint?


	67. Joining the Cult of Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maddie and Toby accidentally join either the Cult of Endless Hymns or the Cult of Dipping sauce.
> 
> Cue hilarious misunderstandings and delightful shenanigans
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/116290605246/maddie-and-toby-accidentally-join-either-the-cult

 

Maddie was still getting used to the idea that her dad, her utter dork of an overprotective goofball dad, was actually a demon masquerading in human form for the sole purpose of raising her and Toby.

 

And not just any demon, oh no, but Alcor the freaking Dreambender, most powerful demon known to humankind. The Twin Star, unholy offspring of nightmares and the void, unpredictable and unknowable, The Forgotten One, The...okay Maddie forgot the rest, she hadn't really paid attention after awhile in that class. Alcor had too many titles for a human to remember, anyway.

 

But still. Her _dad_. A _demon_.

 

And he was still a dork! How was that even possible?

 

Maddie couldn't say she really knew all that much about Alcor the demon – her dad hadn't been too keen on her studying demons, and know she understood why. Not that he'd stopped her, he'd just been so uncomfortable about the whole thing that she'd ended up letting it drop.

 

The worst part had been how scared she'd been at first, and of her dad, of all things. He'd tried to pretend that it hadn't hurt, but she knew better. For a demon, he was amazingly sensitive, and his hurt at her fear of him (yeah, he was a demon, but he was her dad, he was a dork, why...how had she forgotten that? Been afraid of him? When she knew how much he loved her – and Toby, too, for all he tried to pretend he didn't. With how bad his acting was when it came to Toby, it was kind of a amazing he'd hidden the whole demon thing this long) had been good enough to help get her over the fear.

 

At least, they were getting over that fear and hurt. Toby was being evasive about just what her dad was capable of, when he was off being Alcor, but he'd relented when she'd pointed out just how easy it was for her to get all the information she wanted on her tablet.

 

Apparently, dealing with trying to explain Alcor and his past with the demon was easier for Toby's state of mind then watching Maddie get all kinds of strange ideas about their dad from the internet.

 

And there were a lot of strange ideas out there, some of which Maddie might have gone after just for the entertainment of seeing what people thought of her dad. But after accidentally stumbling on a still-active Twin Souls forum, Maddie was more than happy to agree to studying with Toby rather than on her own. She never wanted to think about anyone thinking about her dad like that again. And then then were talking about her, too, although technically it also wasn't her?

 

Didn't matter. It was still technically the fictional Mizar, so it wasn't her. But, idealized or not, it was her real dad they were fantasizing about. She needed eye bleach and to forget she ever saw that. Because... _her dad._ No one wanted to think about their parents that way, but these people...there were _fanfics._ And _art_ , and... _nooooo_.

 

At least knowing Toby was helping her seemed to help set her dad at ease, if only a little. Both she and Toby pretended she'd never seen the Twin Souls forum, and focused on the rest of what it meant for her dad to be a demon. Like what it meant when Dad went very, very still, looking off into the distance. Or what it meant when her dad would disappear for hours at a time, and refuse to let her see him again until he was changed back to human...or at least, the somewhat human that seemed to be more comfortable for him. The 'new' look was a bit odd, but somehow right, much like the rest of her life.

 

Honestly, she was old enough to know these things, Dad had to stop hovering over her sometime.

 

...at least that hadn't changed. And she was getting used to the whole demon thing, now that he'd stopped trying to hide it from her and was trying to be as open about it with her as he was with Toby.

 

...it helped when she did things like walk in on her dad doing the dishes to his dad-music, like he always had, wiggling and dancing to the beat, only now with the addition of adorable little bat wings twitching and flicking along.

 

So cute. Such a dork. Still her dad, even with demon wings and fangs and claws.

 

At the moment, now that things were settling down and Maddie was more used to the idea of 'my dad is a demon', she was more curious about what it meant to be the Mizar to her dad's Alcor. To find out, Maddie had a stack of articles and research written about previous Mizars spread over the table and open on her tablet, and Toby was starting to look pretty anxious about that.

 

“You're still way too young to try any of this, you know that, right?” he asked as Maddie flipped over another page on her tablet, copy pasting the most interesting bits to print out later for her “A-Mizar-ing Scrapbook!” collection.

 

“You sound like dad,” she said, glancing up at Toby with a grin before returning her attention to her tablet. “Don't worry so much, I've barely even gotten started reading.” She flipped through another couple of pages, frowning and chewing on the end of her stylus. “There sure are a lot of different stories out there, though.”

 

“Well, your soul's reincarnated a lot,” Toby said reasonably.

 

“Not just about me, about Dad,” Maddie said, a bit impatiently. She leaned against her brother, pointing at different articles as she spoke. “See, here – a good first summons, easy on beginners. Gentle with kids. Killed entire cult. Destroyed former state of California. Created Blood Canyon in fight with other demon. Rescued children from abusive home. Refuses human sacrifice. See what I mean?”

 

She flipped a few more pages before Toby could respond, bringing up a page of bits she'd been saving. “And check out all these cults! I mean, could you imagine trying to worship our dad?”

 

Toby was wringing his hands, staring at the ground. “Well...if you didn't know him...maybe? Yeah? Not that I would but I mean I knew him as Alcor first so...if someone never knew him as anything but Alcor...”

 

Maddie looked thoughtful, patted her brother's hand, and let the matter drop.

 

 

Of course, Maddie didn't stop researching because of all the conflicting information. If anything, she was more curious now.

 

Maybe it was partially because she'd only really seen her dad in full demon-mode the one time, when he was protecting both her and her brother, and he'd tried so hard to tone it down around her since then.

 

He'd finally started to loosen up about that, and she was grateful for it. Yeah, he was acting more demon-y, and he had wings and the weird-y eyes and claws around the house and he floated now, but he looked a lot more comfortable, and him being all uncomfortable and hiding around her had made her all uncomfortable.

 

Maddie was sitting on a table in the park, her tablet forgotten in her lap as she watched her brother, over by the small pond, fiddle with his own tablet. There were other people in the park, so their plans of playing with some of her dad's sheep were shot for the moment.

 

Their dad's sheep were awesome, and Maddie almost wished she'd known about the whole 'demon' thing sooner so she could've spent more time with them.

 

Toby had already assured here that they made great babysitters.

 

Disgruntled and bored, her mind going over the same thoughts concerning her dad, demons, and Mizars, that she'd been having for the past few months, she flopped bonelessly back to lay on the table, playing with the necklace her dad had given her yesterday.

 

Apparently all the times he'd kissed her (and Toby, though she'd noticed long ago that her dad had more trouble letting Toby know outright how much he cared, which was _silly silly silly_ , because everyone could tell and he wasn't fooling them) left marks that told other critters to stay away, but this necklace had his mark on it, a star with wings, and he could look though it and keep an eye on them when he wasn't there.

 

She was still fiddling with her necklace when she felt someone sit down on the table next to her. Maddie tensed, her eyes flying open, but she relaxed again when she saw that it was only Sarah, one of the girls she was friends with at school.

 

They didn't usually hang out outside of school hours, but there was a time to try everything, so Maddie sat up to make it easier to talk.

 

“Hey,” the other girl greeted shyly. “That's a nice necklace.”

 

Trust Sarah to manage to both get straight to the point and yet dance around what she wanted at the same time. “Thanks,” Maddie said, rubbing the pendant again. “My dad got it for me. The star's pretty cool.” There, that shouldn't give away that she knew exactly what the symbol meant, and hopefully Sarah didn't either.

 

“My sister has one like it,” Sarah said, and Maddie saw her brother still, though he pretended to still be engrossed in his reading. “She won't tell me what it means, or why a bunch of her friends have them too.”

 

“Huh,” Maddie said shortly, mind racing. “Think me an' Toby could meet your sister and her friends? He's got one of these too,” she added when Toby looked ready to protest.

 

Her brother buried his head in his hands for a moment, looking like he was begging for strength.

 

Sarah shrugged, airily and unconcerned. “Sure, but I wish someone would tell me what the secret's all about...”

 

 

“What are you thinking?” Toby hissed at Maddie. “Dadrone's already said you're too young to start doing Mizar duties, and we both know what my luck's like.”

 

With Toby's luck, it was likely that this was going to end up being some cult that was using their dad's symbol to mask their worship of some other demon, or trying to sacrifice people to their dad, or something equally silly, ending in Alcor having to come clean up after them.

 

“If they're wearing dad's symbols, then they're a cult focused on dad,” Maddie argued. “He's going to find out about them sooner or later. We're just...scoping things out. If it's fine he'll never know, and if it's not then he'll be there sooner or later anyway. It's like a practice run. They're still teens, big bro. Doubt teens are up to human sacrifice already.”

 

Toby sighed, walking behind his little sister as they made their way to the meeting spot for this group Sarah's sister belonged to.

 

“Relax, Toby,” Maddie called back to her brother, skipping ahead to the door and knocking brightly. “They're teenagers, they're probably just Twin Souls fans or something.”

 

The siblings performed their ritual shudder of disgust at the name and grinned brightly at each other before stepping through the doorway.

 

 

Well, there were more than teenagers at this meeting, though when Maddie and Toby met Sarah's sister, Rebekah, she called it the 'young adult and teenage auxiliary'.

 

Maddie and Toby were sent to the sidelines; as newbies with (as far as the rest of the room knew) no experience in summonings, they were to watch and get a feel for it.

 

Fair enough, and all the better for Maddie and Toby's purposes – they'd be able to hide if their dad did show up to the summon and avoid the questions about just what they were doing there. Though they were a bit surprised at how easily they were accepted, their cover story uncontested.

 

Toby kept playing with his shirt, his hair, rubbing at his scars and unable to keep still. Maddie elbowed him lightly and Toby hung his head sheepishly, but he was figiting again moments later.

 

When the others began chanting the two drew closer to each other, hands seeking each other's hand. Toby had thought it would be okay, since it was Dadrone's chant, but it was still bringing up memories he thought he'd forgotten, and Maddie's hand was his link to reality, while she was in a similar predicament, though much less intense than her brother.

 

Then their dad's answering machine popped up in the circle, something they'd read so many accounts of online, the frustration and anger of the cultists who'd gotten it instead of their dad, the confusion over a demon with an answering machine, and they braced themselves for the cult's disappointment.

 

“Whew, man, still got it!”

 

“I was worried it'd actually work for a minute there.”

 

“I wonder if Alcor ever updates that thing...”

 

Maddie's jaw dropped and Toby blinked in stunned silence as the cultists began congratulating each other, a few even starting to dance to the dorky, ancient music on their dad's answering machine.

 

They'd seen the thing before, only once for Maddie and a few times for Toby, but they'd never sat and listened to it. Now that they thought about it, neither sibling was quite sure why they hadn't. That...seemed to be exactly what this cult intended to do, though.

 

Maddie watched them for a bit before she slipped out of her seat, ignoring her brother's worried hiss. She headed straight for Rebekah, sitting down beside her.

 

“So...this is it?” she asked quietly, so only Rebekah would hear her and she wouldn't bother the others. “Calling up d...Alcor's answering machine and listening to the music?” she asked, nearly slipping up and calling him 'dad' and only substituting in 'Alcor' at the last moment.

 

Rebekah shrugged. “Well, yeah,” she said. “We're the Cult of Eternal Hymns, it's what we do. Sorry I didn't tell you about it before we started, but we were about to get to it when you got here and there wasn't time. Anyway, I don't think any branch has ever managed to call Alcor more than once or twice, and it's about getting the machine, not him. We just really like the music. It's amazingly hard to get your hands on the originals, let alone Mizar's cover. Actually, we'll be happy if we never get Alcor himself, though if we do, I think a couple folks have a deal ready. I think it's for either cds of the Answering Machine's music, in case he quits using it again, or to get him to add some new songs to it.”

 

“Um...that's a neat idea,” Maddie said cautiously. “But isn't it kinda...dangerous?”

 

Rebekah scratched her arm uncomfortably. “Well...yeah, but the CDs one chapter managed to get their hands on have been hard to get copies of. Transferring them to digital doesn't always work, for some reason. Plus, it kind of takes awhile to listen to it all the way through, and using anything but the Answering Machine doesn't sound the same. Or feel the same. Getting together to start up the tablet just isn't the same as this, you know?”

 

Maddie was about to reply when the track changed, and the unmistakable sound of her dad's voice warbled out from the star. She shot up, unable to contain her reaction, and out of the corner of her eye saw Toby giving the same 'No. Starry. Way.' response.

 

Rebekah laughed at that. “Yeah, I think that's how we all reacted the first time we heard that track,” she said fondly. “Lore says it took awhile to believe that's actually Alcor singing. But really, can you blame them? What demon sings a silly pop song like that?”

 

_My demon dad does,_ Maddie thought, still in a bit of shock.  _Whenever he thinks we can't hear him, he sings like that. Oh stars, I can see his wings twitching in time to the music..._ Still...it was kind of funny. So much for the reputation. “Do you know who's singing the other music?”

 

“Legend says it's the first Mizar,” Rebekah answered readily. “Mizar the Gleeful. I'm a bit surprised there aren't more Mizars on there, to be honest.”

 

“The first Mizar...” Maddie whispered, looking over at the spinning star of an answering machine with a dozen conflicting emotions filling her chest. Her dad had told her so many stories about the adventures of Shooting Star and Pine Tree, and he'd only admitted they were about him and the first Mizar a few months ago. Admitted that the 'Mabel' he'd spoken of was the Mizar to his Alcor, and gone for much, much longer than Maddie had thought.

 

Maddie had hero-worshiped her 'aunt' for so long, but all she had was the stories her dad told. But hearing her and her dad singing together...did her dad remember recording this? Did he ever listen to it, so he could remember what Mabel's voice sounded like, or did it hurt to much?

 

...would he do the same for her, after she was gone?

 

 

The two stayed for the rest of the evening. Maddie in particular was entranced by the music – true, the first Mizar hadn't been superstar material, but she was decent, and enthusiastic, and more importantly, she was her dad's Mabel.

 

Okay, it was kind of weird that people deliberately flubbed summoning her dad just enough to get the answering machine instead of passing around music files of it or something, but people did weirder things for stranger rewards.

 

Maddie was quiet on the drive back home, quiet enough to worry Toby.

 

“You okay over there?” he asked, careful not to take his eyes off the road.

 

“...I want to go back next time they meet,” Maddie said. Toby jerked a little, hurrying to correct the little mistake before something could go wrong. Dadrone was over protective of both of them, but more so when it came to Maddie, and if he got in an accident then Dadrone was going to fuss over both of them for ages.

 

“Maddie...why...?” Toby asked. “I thought you just wanted to make sure nothing was going on that Dadrone needed to know about. He won't like us visiting summonings.”

 

“Don't be such a worrier,” Maddie laughed. “They weren't summoning anything but Dad's answering machine. C'mon, Toby. Once more? I really want to hear Mabel singing again.”

 

“...okay. One more time.”

 

 

Once more turned into twice. And then three times. Four. Five.

 

And before either of them realized it, they were going to the meetings on a regular basis.

 

Neither of them could say later who figured it out first. They just looked at each other and saw the dawning realization in their sibling's eyes as the Answering Machine warbled in the background.

 

Somehow, they'd managed to join a cult. One devoted to their demonic father's Answering Machine.

 

Awkward didn't even begin to cover it.

 

 

And it really didn't begin to cover the moment when their dad actually did answer the summons for the Cult of Eternal Hymns.

 

There was a brief, awkward silence, covered by the rest of the cult's panic, as parent and children blinked at each other in shock.

 

“We'll talk later,” their dad mouthed, giving them the _look_ that they knew meant he wasn't going to drop this, the Dad look they both dreaded, before turning to the cult that had accidentally summoned him instead of his Answering Machine.

 

In the back of the group, Maddie and Toby exchanged winces. “Busted,” she whispered.

 

“Busted,” he agreed.


	68. More About Butterfly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary Ellen first appears in “Drastic Measures.” I had a request that I tell some more of what happened to her and her little brother after those events. (Holy crap it's been a year since I wrote that? Time flies...)
> 
>  
> 
> For a refresher: Desperate Measures is chapter 5. This is basically a sequel to that, so it may help. :)

 

 

Mikey didn't remember their parents very well, but Mary Ellen did. And sometimes, she wondered how any of them could have been related to people like her aunt and uncle.

 

The worst part was how her aunt and uncle presented such a dignified, kind front to everyone outside the house. Look at us, they seemed to say. How kind we are, how generous, to take in our niece and nephew, and to provide for them now that their parents are gone.

 

So there was no one Mary Ellen could turn to. No one would ever believe her, if she spoke out about what things were really like at 'home'. It just meant things were worse once they were behind closed doors again if she tried.

 

Then she found out about her relatives' other dealings, the plans for summoning a demon to be their slave, to use her and Mikey to seal the deal with fresh blood and child sacrifice.

 

What they hadn't counted on was for her to call the demon first. But what else did she have to lose?

 

And none of them had counted on Alcor. Alcor, who'd heard what her family had planned for her and her little brother, and who'd promptly Lost His Temper and made a deal with Mary Ellen, and open ended deal that she'd made in a panic, but still didn't regret.

 

Mikey had no idea what exactly had happened to their aunt and uncle, but Mary Ellen could guess.

 

She could guess, but she really didn't want to know for sure.

 

Honestly, she was mostly surprised no cops had come after any of them. They had to still be in the system, but no one had ever come questioning them.

 

Apparently, being at a Gliese Pines Family Foster House covered all that.

 

The house was huge, and noisy, and Mary Ellen loved it. And she knew Mikey did too. After the silence and fear of their last house, the noise and joy were a balm.

 

They took a bit of adjustment to get used to, but it was still nice to know there were people around that cared.

 

Alcor, though...that took a lot more adjusting.

 

When they'd first arrived, an older woman had come to see them, told them her name was Willow and explained how the Gliese Foster Homes differed from regular foster homes, and told them about Alcor. About how he acted like an uncle to just about everyone who lived there, and that he would be popping in and out to check on everyone.

 

A proper Uncle, that was, the kind that cared about you and helped your parents watch over you and did ridiculous things with you when your parents weren't looking.

 

She told them more than that, but said most of it they'd have to see for themselves. That it was hard to believe until they lived it, and that some things they would have to learn on their own. She'd been smiling when she'd said it, though, and Alcor had kept his word so far...

 

But it was still odd to walk down to breakfast in the morning and see a demon floating near the table, drinking coffee and keeping an eye on the younger kids as they 'made breakfast' (cereal and milk, served with enthusiasm, if with poor accuracy as to little things like getting said cereal and milk into the bowls).

 

Theirs wasn't the only foster house belonging to the Gliese Branch of foster homes, which meant it wasn't the only house Alcor visited, so he wasn't a constant presence, but evidence of his visits were everywhere if you knew what to look for.

 

 

About three months after the two had made their way to the foster home, Alcor popped in the check on them.

 

Literally popped in, as he appeared beside Mary Ellen as she sat under a tree, pretending to read but actually just enjoying the brief moment outdoors and alone.

 

Mary Ellen jumped about a foot into the air when Alcor appeared, and he had the grace to look sheepish about it.

 

“How're you settling in?” he asked once Mary Ellen had recovered. “Think you like being a Pleiades?” Mary Ellen took a second to consider her answer as she settled back down into her spot under the tree, closer to the demon than she might have liked. She wasn't going to move away, though. She wasn't going to show weakness in front of Alcor, after everything.

 

“It's...good. It's really good,” Mary Ellen finally said. To her faint surprise, she realized she meant it. There were people here to talk to, who understood what had happened, and love, and she and Mikey were finally able to go to school without fear again. “Really good,” she repeated.

 

Alcor sighed, and to Mary Ellen he almost sounded relieved, as if hadn't been quite sure until now.

 

The pair were silent for a bit, and Mary Ellen was surprised at how peaceful it was, to just sit like this, with her demon 'uncle'.

 

“Did they tell you my proper name yet?” Alcor suddenly asked, voice hushed as if not to disturb the peaceful feeling that had settled over them.

 

Mary Ellen twisted to look up at Alcor's face, but he was still staring off into the distance, fingers playing with the cane he sometimes carried.

 

“It was mentioned,” she said after a moment. “I didn't want to ask. It didn't...didn't seem right, that you'd just hand out your name like that. But mostly we were just told that you'd tell us when you were ready, or that we'd probably hear someone using it sooner or later. That it's about trusting us with it. And that you'd...you'd be our uncle.” The last words were a bit weaker, and Mary Ellen pulled her knees up to her chest as she said them, no longer looking at the demon by her side.

 

“You don't have to call me that, if you don't want to,” he offered, still hushed. “I know the word's got some baggage for you now.”

 

“No, it's...it's okay,” she said, surprised to find that she meant the words. They were quiet again for a few minutes, while Mary Ellen sought the words she wanted.

 

She wasn't scared of Alcor anymore, not really, it was still just...strange. Maybe, just maybe, if... “So...Uncle...?” she said, leaving the sentence hanging.

 

He grinned at her, as if proud she'd asked. “Dipper,” he said. “And you're not to tell anyone outside family, remember that. ”

 

“Dipper? What kind of demon name is _Dipper_?” Mary Ellen exclaimed, too surprised and amused to remember her faint but still remaining fears about the demon.

 

Alcor...no, Dipper, it was easier to associate the way he looked and acted now with 'Dipper' than with the 'Alcor' she'd first met...tried to give her a disdainful look, but she'd been around him often enough to see the laugh trying to break free. He pushed his bangs out of the way, giving Mary Ellen a quick look at his forehead and the birthmark there.

 

He dropped them as soon as he saw the understanding on her face, with a quiet caution that the birthmark was a secret too.

 

After a few seconds, she leaned against his side. Demon or not, he'd saved both her and Mikey, and he was a bit of a dork, and uncle or not, he was kind of comforting to have around. Like...like real family, like Miss Willow had said they would be, someday.

 

“Feeling better now, Butterfly?” Dipper asked, softly. Mary Ellen hummed softly before raising her head to look at him quizzically.

 

“Why do you keep calling me Butterfly?” she asked. He chuckled and shrugged his free shoulder.

 

“It's you. It's who I see when I look at you,” Dipper said, evasively to Mary Ellen's way of thinking.

 

Her face reflected that, and Dipper huffed softly. Mary Ellen sat up a little straighter, suddenly fascinated.

 

“Are you _blushing_?” she asked incredulously. Dipper made a little _pffft_ sound, but the blush remained.

 

Grinning, Mary Ellen dared to poke at his side a little, jumping when she brushed against his wing. For a moment, she'd actually forgotten he was a demon, and just thought of him as an uncle, a friend.

 

“It's...” he said, and the half smile on his face reassured Mary Ellen before she could get worked up about poking a demon, the wing she'd brushed against draping over her shoulders, lightly enough to be shrugged off if she didn't want it there, “it's like, sometimes a soul has a name associated with it, not really a True Name but one that fits them. Like my name. It was a nickname for a long time, but it was more my name than the one I was given when I was born. So when I look at you, I see Butterfly. The girl who's already breaking out of her cocoon and going to fly.”

 

Now Mary Ellen was blushing. “That's a bit sappy,” she said.

 

He bumped shoulders with her. “Souls are sappy,” he replied simply.

 

Quietly, Mary Ellen mouthed 'Butterfly' to herself a few times, trying out the feel of the name, how it felt to think of it as her, as opposed to 'Mary Ellen'.

 

Dipper – Uncle Dipper – was right. It felt...good. Right. Like she'd discovered a piece of herself that she hadn't realized was missing, but felt like slipping on her comfiest pajamas when she used it for herself.

 

“...you okay there, Butterfly?” Dipper asked. Smiling, Butterfly leaned against his shoulder.

 

“Better than ever, Uncle Dipper,” she answered. “Much better.”


	69. Investigating the Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paranormal Investigator James Gallucio, PhD, had come to Gravity Falls to investigate the history of 'a little town just west of weird'.
> 
> He's not quite sure what he expected.
> 
> Based on this prompt: http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/116972507433/imagine-some-kind-of-paranormal-investigator

 

 

James Gallucio, PhD, had been researching the supernatural for years. It wasn't the easiest career path, especially before the Transcendence hit and anyone who studied the paranormal was considered odd, at best.

 

Tall and lanky and clumsy, with thick glasses, James had always been on the receiving end of taunting and the stereotype of 'nerd', and his hobbies didn't help matters any.

 

But James was stubborn, and determined to find out the truth. They could laugh at him all they liked, but he knew of at least one man in his field who'd gotten a government grant to study the paranormal, and he was determined to keep working despite his detractors. Who knew, maybe it would happen for him.

 

Then the Transcendence happened. All over the world, in the blink of an eye, the paranormal was out in plain sight, unable to hide, and demanding their basic human rights, and people like James were suddenly needed.

 

But even though he was suddenly respected, needed, and looked to, at least somewhat, James just wasn't satisfied. Half of the excitement of his job had been in the danger, in people's disbelieving reactions, in the chase after something no one else understood.

 

There were dozens, if not hundreds, of people studying the paranormal now. James needed a challenge, something new.

 

Of course, there were dozens of new species to study now, and many of them incredibly dangerous.

 

So when the offer came, James jumped on it. So now, in the fourteen years since the Transcendence, James had done a documentary on as many as he could find the least verifiable information on.

 

Now James was looking for something new to document, something dangerous, something little was known about, something that would really get his name out there.

 

Then, he had a flash of inspiration.

 

Because, along with the supernatural creatures that were revealed to the world, there was now evidence of demons and angels. They weren't like what they'd been painted as in history, in fact they were very little like the stories, but they were very real, and very dangerous.

 

So began _Behind the Myths_ , the show picked up for television and lauded for its high levels of research and the amount of knowledge about the supernatural, Angels and Demons in particular, it added to the little that had been known.

 

Of course, summoning chants, circles, and the rest were blurred or censored, and while the research James was doing was legitimate and properly documented, the show was also lambasted for being sensationalist.

 

Well, dry documentaries didn't make good television or rake in the cash this series did, so James continued on unabashed. He kept on with his other documentaries, when he could, but keeping one step ahead of the demons and angels he was summoning – especially in terms of leaving the summonings unharmed – needed all of his attention. He couldn't summon for each show, of course, but figuring out how to do it safely was a challenge he relished.

 

And he was trying to get information out there so that people wouldn't try summoning them, or at least know the real dangers and risks of dealing with the supernatural, so there was that. Not that some people would listen, but, well, there really was no helping some folks. If he had to be a bit sensationalist to get people to tune in and listen, well, that was a price he was willing to pay.

 

But despite the danger, it was starting to get stale again. There were patterns of behavior shared by angels, and different ones shared by demons, hidden under the chaos and blood, and he wanted anomalies.

 

So they started filming at places demons were said to frequent. Poveglia Island, Amityville, Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum, The Tower of London. The Devil's Tree, the Pine Barons, everywhere and anywhere they could go. It wasn't quite the same _Behind the Myths_ anymore, but with this new twist, it was exciting again.

 

Although admittedly, most of the locations they chose were within the United States, thanks to budget concerns. Someday, he'd have the budget to go anywhere in the world to do his shows and documentaries. If it were on his own, or had government grants...

 

They did shows on supposedly demonic items. Dibbuk boxes, the Robert doll, cursed jewelry and tables and a dozen other strange things, some of which James never would have guessed were considered cursed. The kept up the episodes on other supernatural creatures, but James was living for the dangerous species now, though he kept justifying it as needing to get the information out there, so people wouldn't make the mistake of thinking they could handle these things on their own.

 

And throughout it all James kept writing book after book, articles and papers and more on all the things he learned, all the theories and speculations his investigations led him to.

 

And with most of the locations his producers and researcher had asked for complete, he was going to go for something he'd wanted to do for months now. He was going to tackle the most famous, most fan-requested demon and location of them all.

 

Alcor the Dreambender and Gravity Falls.

 

 

As was his usual method of operation, James didn't hit Gravity Falls with his full camera crew in tow. He always did his research first, before pulling anyone else into the location. To get a feel for what they were about to get themselves into, and how to handle the situation.

 

Usually, it involved lots of libraries, searching the internet for hours, if not days on end, lots and lots of dusty old books and even more allergy medication to deal with the aforementioned dust.

 

But this time, there was a problem.

 

Unlike nearly every other demon currently in existence, there was no record of Alcor the Dreambender to be found anywhere save the few posts online, from those who had summoned him or been rescued from being a sacrificial victim or a bad situation by him.

 

And unlike every other demon, somewhere from a third to half of those stories were...good. Positive. People actually being helped, fair deals, it just didn't make sense! What possible good could a demon have in such a reputation? What could he be getting out of it? This was behavior different from every other demon he'd researched, with no key thread to the plan behind it all.

 

James had a few theories about what might be going on, what might have started it, but even he knew they were unsubstantiated and fragile at best.

 

It was so exciting!

 

So, once he'd read every scrap of information there was to be had about both the Dreambender and Gravity Falls (and it wasn't much), it was time for a road trip to the middle of Oregon and a little town that proudly claimed itself to be 'a little town just west of weird'.

 

James stopped the car outside the Falls, pulling off the road into a vantage point perfectly situated to look over the entire valley that cradled the town. Leaning on the railing edging the viewing area, James simply stood for a few minutes, enjoying the view and the breeze. For all its weirdness, when seen from above like this, Gravity Falls was a pretty town. Forests filled the valley, houses peeking out between the trees, growing thicker until they formed the town proper down below.

 

It looked like a small town out of a movie. Unfortunately, the type of movies James enjoyed usually had small towns like this have picturesque covers like these to hide the horror underneath.

 

Usually some kind of religious fanatical group intent on murdering the pack of foolish teens who ignored the warning signs and entered anyway.

 

While James was sure Gravity Falls had its more than fair share of weird, being the center of the Transcendence and all, he doubted it was hiding a horror movie scenario. Monsters? Maybe, to the bigoted. But not a horror movie.

 

...though for some people, he supposed living alongside non-humans and treating them as equals was a horror movie. Their loss.

 

He took a few pictures for his own research, a few more for his scrapbooks, and made notes about the viewing area as a prospective opening shot for the episode – perhaps even episodes, if the town proved as lucrative as he hoped – about the town and its inhabitants and their history, as well as notes on it as a nice spot to come and think when he needed to get out for a bit.

 

Satisfied, James carefully packed away the equipment he'd used before climbing back into the car and starting the trip down into the Falls.

 

 

The trip down into Gravity Falls took longer than James had anticipated. In most of the world, while the supernatural was now part of everyday life, it was still taking time to integrate them into most human society, and a lot of the shyer species were still keeping away from humans.

 

But not here in Gravity Falls. James had nearly filled his camera's memory card with pictures and his notebooks were filled with notes on a dozen different species, tucked safely in his messenger bag on the passenger seat, half of which were creatures he'd never seen before, that he'd gotten a look at on the way into town.

 

It had slowed his trip down considerably.

 

Coming to Gravity Falls was the best idea he'd ever had.

 

 

It was already much later than James had planned on arriving, what with all the little stops he'd made on the way into town, so rather than exploring the town as he'd much rather do since he just got here, James headed for the cottage he'd rented for the next month.

 

It took him a little over two hours to unpack everything and set it all up. By the time he was done, the charming if shabby living room looked like something out of a sci-fi novel, blinking screens and wires and metal everywhere.

 

Satisfied with the day's work, James nuked a can of soup in the provided microwave, eating it while standing at the counter.

 

He flopped into bed soon after, leaving the dishes for tomorrow (where they would stack later with more dishes left for 'tomorrow' if previous experience held true).

 

 

James woke early, the way he'd trained himself to do on earlier research trips, where he only had to get all the information possible in a ridiculously small window of time. At least this time he had a generous buffer before they needed to start filming.

 

First thing to do, since everything was all set up here at home base, was to get some food in him, then food in the house. James had learned long ago the danger of shopping for food and of trying to do research when he was hungry. And of forgetting to stock up on food before he buried himself in research, only to resurface after everything was closed and there wasn't any food in his current lodgings.

 

Well used by now to long treks, James decided to walk to breakfast and see just how far it was to a grocery store. It would give him a chance to check out the town while it was still early, before everyone was up and about.

 

 

The town was surprisingly active for how early it was. James noticed an officer of the Oregon Supernatural Squadron as he walked through town, raising a hand to wave to the man as they passed and making a quick note of the name on his badge.

 

Most members of the OSS, or any Supernatural Squad, were pretty useless seeing as how they refused to accept the truth of anything not written in their handbook, which tended to treat anyone non-human as some kind of animal (James had, with much wrangling, gotten his hands on a copy and then had to add corrections as he went along. The book was roughly 90% red ink at this point) but an officer living and working in Gravity Falls might still have learned something useful.

 

Still silently going over all the possible contacts he might be able to make (the obvious ones, that is – this being Gravity Falls, James was looking forward to finding some more, new, unique sources of information), James turned towards a building shaped like a giant log.

 

Usually he'd dismiss places like that as tourist traps, but the amount of traffic already around the building said it was a place for locals, and those were the best places to eat in his opinion.

 

Plus, he might find some contacts if he made sure he was approachable and non-judgmental as he usually tried to be going into these kind of situation.

 

 

The diner went quiet for a few seconds when he walked in, a normal reaction in James's experience for when a stranger came to a small town. He smiled and waved at the people staring, trying to project innocent curiosity and hoping no one would recognize him from TV.

 

Thankfully most people turned back to their breakfasts after that first look over, and he was able to sit down and study everyone unobtrusively from his booth.

 

For the most part they looked like fairly normal people, though there was a fair scattering of non humans in the diner, going about their own business and being treated as completely normal by the waitstaff. It was...actually rather refreshing to see.

 

James hoped they wouldn't take his presence there the wrong way. A lot of researchers treated anyone who wasn't 100% human as lesser, and that tended to create quite a bit of resentment.

 

Not that he'd appreciate being treated as some kind of specimen, when it came down to it. Maybe that's why he'd had such luck in getting information – basic decency.

 

Shocking.

 

A rather large man wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with a question mark and holding a small child stopped by James's table. The woman with him patted him on the shoulder and kept walking, giving James a blindingly friendly smile as she passed before sliding into the biggest booth in the back of the diner.

 

“Hey dude, you new in town?” the man asked, shifting his hold on the child.

 

James gave his best disarming grin. Well, here was the first test, a little sooner than expected. “Sure am,” he said. “Hope to stay awhile too,” he added, “Want to do a bit of research here on the supernatural, maybe even get some footage for a TV show.”

 

He waited, but the man's face remained as open and friendly as before. “Really, dude? That sounds awesome. I have a show on our public channel. 'Fixin' it with Soos'. You oughta check it out sometime.” He paused, then added, “You might wanna be careful with the questions though. Lots of newer folks here, they don't want attention, ya know? Not...not really a friendly world out there.”

 

“Oh, I getcha,” James said, still smiling. He couldn't really blame the guy – Soos, apparently – for being worried, seeing as how these were his neighbors they were talking about. “I wanted to see about getting information on Alcor first, seeing as how this is pretty much his home...”

 

Soos laughed. “Oh, I getcha. Yeah, this is Alcor's home too. Better off facing that dude with a good breakfast in you, dawg. Later homeboy.” He waved as he walked away, joining the woman who'd come in with him.

 

James smiled, a genuine smile this time, and started looking through his menu. If half the people in town were as friendly as Soos, this was going to be easy to research...but harder to figure out how to make sure it was all respectful. He certainly didn't want to take too much advantage of that friendliness...

 

“HI! I'm Lazy Susan, and you're new!” The voice was loud and right beside him, and James nearly levitated in surprise.

 

The woman – Lazy Susan – grinned, holding up her coffeepot with her free hand on her hip. James tried to grin up at her as he convinced his body he didn't need all that adrenaline right now, really, thank you.

 

“So what're you doin' in town, stranger?” Lazy Susan asked, filling up his coffee cup, and James was pretty sure he hadn't asked for coffee but it looked like he was getting some anyway.

 

He repeated his story, watching the coffee overflow the mug and spill onto the table as Lazy Susan listened.

 

She jerked the pot upright again when he finished, still smiling. “Well, good luck with that!” she said brightly. “You know where to find me if you need an interview with a native, cutie! Wink!” She lifted the lid of her lazy eye, dropping it, James guessed to simulate a wink, and he smiled back, a little weakly, as she meandered off to another table.

 

The bell over the door jangled again, and James glanced up from his perusal of the menu to look over the group who had just entered. A tall redheaded woman, a very tall redheaded man, a solidly built brunette, an Asian woman with a terrifying array of weaponry strapped to her, especially for something as mundane as going to a diner, a short brunette woman in an incredibly loud sweater, and an older man made their way to the huge table at the back where Soos and the woman and child with him waited, waving and greeting the new people happily.

 

Nearly everyone else in the diner waved or called out some kind of greeting as the group passed, so James peeked over the top of his menu again to get a better look. If these folks were that popular, than getting to know them or gaining their approval might be the difference between getting information and managing to do some research or being completely stonewalled.

 

Well, he would be talking to Pacifica Northwest, though not her parents. Her parents were too far gone to the pro-nat side to be of any use, but getting Pacifica on his side might help. But every ally possible was always a good thing. He had already managed to get an appointment. But there was not telling how helpful she might feel like being.

 

There had certainly been enough going around about Pacifica having some vague connection to the supernatural, Alcor in particular, unprovable but for the vaguest of rumors. Between her and the now infamous Pines family, he should be able to get a lot of research even before he opened a book! ...if she'd speak to him.

 

Speaking of books, he'd have to make sure to get a trip in to the Stanley Pines Memorial Library of the Supernatural...might be a good place to meet the Pines...or did too many people try buttering them up at work? It was the most obvious place to find them...but then again, just approaching them in the street didn't seem like the best plan either...especially when he wasn't sure exactly what they looked like...

 

James pulled a small notepad out of the knapsack he carried with him everywhere, starting to write down a mixed list of books to see if they had at the Pines Library, people to try to meet and interview, and ideas of ways to meet the Pines family without coming across as a creep or a weirdo.

 

He came up briefly for air when Lazy Susan came back to take his order before again diving back down into his notes, glancing around the room occasionally to keep track of what was going on around him.

 

Before he started going out in the field to research, he wouldn't have even remembered that, so it was a step in the right direction for him.

 

It wasn't until James had filled nearly an entire notepad with observations and thoughts that a change in the room caught his eye.

 

Keeping his head bent over his notepad, James glanced over the room. Everything looked the same, but...no, no it wasn't! There was someone else at the big table in the corner, and while James had been distracted, he'd learned long ago to snap out of it if someone passed by – and he was too close to the door for anyone to sneak past him, and he would have heard the other door open.

 

Lazy Susan dropped a plate down in front of James, making him jump. Was the woman some kind of supernatural, that he never heard her coming?!

 

“Food!” she announced cheerfully, using both hands to gesture to the plate. James smiled up at her, a little weakly, and she cheerfully walked off towards the big table in the corner.

 

Feeling the need for a little help, James took a deep slug of his coffee and nearly spit it back out when he finally got a good look at the newcomer seated at the big table where Lazy Susan was taking orders.

 

Who wore fancy tailored suits in this town? Especially to an incredibly informal greasy spoon like this?

 

James leaned over a bit more in his booth, teetering perilously close to toppling into the aisle, to get a better look. Not all that subtle, but at the moment it was pretty obvious he'd have to try to get attention right now.

 

Then the tallest redhead shifted, and he got that better look.

 

James shot back upright, freezing in place and not daring to move for a few seconds, terrified he'd been spotted.

 

When nothing happened and the diner continued as normal, as if there weren't some kind of entity sitting in the end booth, James slowly began to relax again.

 

Maybe he was wrong...after all, the study of the paranormal was still fairly new – as a respected science, at least – and eyewitness accounts notoriously untrustworthy, especially after a stressful experience.

 

James took a few deep breaths. Calm and center, don't jump to conclusions. Everyone else in the diner seemed to think everything was normal, and they didn't seem like they were under any kind of demonic influence...then again, if that was a demon down there, taking physical form so casually, then they'd have to be strong enough that their influence wouldn't be noticeable, right?

 

James took another deep breath, sternly scolding himself. He was just getting himself all worked up, looking for problems where there might not be any. This was Gravity Falls, he'd been warned ahead of time that things worked differently here. He came here for this exact reason, didn't he?

 

It was perfectly possible that the person...demon...whatever, sitting at the end booth, surrounded by people, merely had a strong resemblance to the Dreambender. After all, what demon would be strong enough to take physical form at will like that, without circle or summon, and what demon would be caught dead in a little greasy spoon diner like this one, simply sitting in a booth and ordering food like a human?

 

It was plainly absurd.

 

This may have been the Dreambender's territory, his 'home', but there was no reason to think he'd appear in a greasy spoon to eat human food, no matter how odd of a demon he was reputed to be.

 

Calmer now, James shifted, hoping to catch some of their conversation and get a better look.

 

“...can't afford that many pancakes,” the small brunette woman was saying, and while James couldn't see her face he was pretty sure she was wrapping up a scolding.

 

“The pancakes are on the house,” Lazy Susan interrupted, giving another of her 'winks'. “It's the least we can do after you took care of that little problem for us last week.”

 

The creature...demon?...that James was watching grinned at that, huge and wide, and holy crap there were a lot of teeth in that smile, a lot of very very sharp looking teeth, but no one else seemed fazed by that in the slightest.

 

James was phased. He was very, very phased. Especially by all those teeth, so close to that little boy, who was – oh god – chewing on the creature's bow tie, far too close to those teeth, cooing and apparently happy and content in its arms.

 

Phased, and utterly fascinated. Of all days to leave his camera with the rest of his equipment! Then again, that was a minor, he'd have to digitally blur his face...

 

There was commotion from outside the diner, and everyone inside paused, forks stopping halfway to mouths and food cooling as the entire diner seemed to hold its breath.

 

The noise resolved into shouting, and James thought he heard someone crying for help. He half rose, not sure what to do – he wanted to do something, but keeping oneself alive in paranormal situations was different from helping someone in a situation he knew nothing about.

 

In the corner table, the creature – demon – handed the baby over to his parents, nodding quickly to the rest. The two brunette women, the redheaded woman, and the smaller Asian woman stood and hurried out the side door, while the demon – it had to be a demon, it floated rather than walked and dear god it looked just like James had heard Alcor rumored to look but how was it here and physical? – went straight through the wall.

 

Really concerned now, because no matter what his intentions (and who knew what those could be, he was a demon), that was still possibly Alcor going into an already volatile situation, if the noise was anything to go by, James slid out of his booth and headed for the door – he didn't know what he was going to do, but if the demon was making things worse...

 

He made it as far as the door before he stopped, frozen with indecision and disbelief.

 

James had heard the rumors, but they didn't do the reality justice, not when he could see it now, before his eyes, and know it was truth.

 

And him without a camera!

 

Because there, in the middle of the street, was a family. Adults, kids, the kids hiding behind the adults, all of them looking as though they hadn't had a decent sleep or full meal in weeks.

 

On the far side of the street stood men, hard, angry looking men, with guns and bats and chains and rope and handcuffs. They had dogs, dogs who strained their leashes, barking furiously at the people on the other side of the street. They were watching the cowering people, and in the van behind them James could see the glint of bars, something that looked far too much like a cage, and a shift in his weight was all the change in his line of sight that he needed to see it _was_ a cage, one with chicken wire behind the bars.

 

Bad enough they were hunters, here, in Gravity Falls, a place that should be safe – and James knew how ironic that was, that he was here yet thinking of how this place should be safe, but he meant no harm, wanted to help by making the supernatural into the normal and understood – but they should never have been here, and if that thought, that they would try and hunt someone in this sanctuary, was enough to confuse so many of James's expectations, than what else he saw shattered them completely.

 

The four women from inside were standing between the family and the hunters, and that he could understand.

 

But what made him, made the hunters, pause, was the demon, floating between hunters and prey.

 

The demon that was sheltering that family with his wings, and making it very clear that he was protecting them, snarling at the hunters softly, eyes ablaze with fury.

 

The dogs, who had been barking and snarling, leashes strained near to breaking, suddenly went quiet. Whimpering and whining, they crouched low, tails tucked submissively, and hid behind their humans as the demon's snarls grew louder.

 

James had to brace himself against the doorway, watching in disbelief yet knowing what he was seeing was very real. That was a demon, the demon he'd come to research, and he was protecting other people, ones that were obviously strangers to him, with no time to make a deal for that protection.

 

Quite frankly, it made no sense!

 

The hunters were snarling at the women, demanding things – James thought they were demanding the women move and let them take the family away with them, but it was hard to tell, as he was closer to the demon and the family than the hunters, and Alcor was snarling loud enough that it was hard to hear the men.

 

The hunters, James was quick to note, were stealing little glances at Alcor, as if they weren't quite sure if he would attack or not.

 

Then the brunette woman stepped forward, a glass and nail studded bat held low and ready (and where the hell did she get that from? Shit he should've been taking notes or video or something of this no one was going to believe it, James barely believed it and he was watching it, this was incredible! Only in Gravity Falls...).

 

“Spread the word,” she called to the hunters, gesturing with a toss of her head towards Alcor, who spread his wings a little wider, bared his teeth a little farther, flexed fingers tipped with needle sharp claws. “Gravity Falls is Alcor the Dreambender's territory, and we protect our own here. Anyone who comes here for sanctuary is under that protection. And we protect him back. Got it?”

 

The hunters were looking between the women and the demon rapidly, backing away slowly.

 

Three of the women kept a close eye on them while the fourth, the speaker, turned to look at Alcor. The woman and demon exchanged nods and she turned back to the hunters.

 

“Just so you know,” she called to the retreating hunters, “this is the last warning for hunters like you. No one else gets a warning, just Alcor. And if any of you, in particular, try hunting again or come back to the Falls...” she tapped her bat against on hand meaningfully, tipping her head to gesture at Alcor, who grinned wider than a human-like face should be able to. “And if you attack _him_ , well, we get what's left. Got it?”

 

The hunters fled, and there was a general relaxation. No one completely relaxed until the hunters were out of sight, waiting until Alcor, still hovering protectively over the small family, relaxed.

 

“They're gone,” he said, and once again James was taken off guard, this time by how surprisingly human Alcor's voice sounded. “I'll take care of them tonight, Mabel.”

 

The woman, obviously named Mabel, nodded firmly. “You'd better,” she said, but she was smiling as she said it. Smiling up at the Dreambender, patting his arm even as she started talking to the people Alcor had been sheltering.

 

Slowly James slid down the door frame until he was sitting on the steps into the diner, staring into nothing. This wasn't what he'd expected when he came to Gravity Falls to research Alcor, at all!

 

What had he gotten himself into? Holy crap this was...he had no words, but no one was going to believe this, and this...so amazing!

 

His moment was broken when a clawed hand waved in front of his face. “Um, hello? New guy? You okay there?” asked a concerned tenor voice.

 

James glanced up and found himself looking into black and gold eyes, inhuman eyes set in an inhuman face that was looking more concerned by the moment.

 

“Dippendots, are you terrorizing the new guys?” the woman – Mabel – said from behind the demon.

 

Alcor's head turned a one eighty to say something to her, and James felt his stomach lurch as he got a close up look at a human-like body doing something it shouldn't have been possible to do.

 

“Di – Alcor, you're freaking him out, knock it off,” Mabel scolded, grabbing Alcor's arm and dragging him inside. “Welcome to town, sorry about the cruddy welcome wagon!” she called to James from around the demon. “Come to the Pines Library later, okay? We'll say hey proper then. C'mon, dorkus, pancakes are waiting.”

 

“Pancakes!” the demon cheered, flying back into the diner.

 

The heavyset brunette and tiny, weapon heavy woman followed more leisurely, nodding at James in passing as they spoke to the family they were escorting into the diner.

 

He continued to sit there, staring blankly, until another hand was shoved in front of his face. His eyes followed the arm up to the amused eyes of the redheaded woman, who grinned. “Welcome to Gravity Falls, dude,” she said simply.

 

James grinned and took her hand.

 

This was definitely the best decision he ever made.


	70. (Golden) Blood is Thicker...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper, is your blood actually gold, or gold-colored? Further, has Grunkle Stan tried to collect and sell your blood?
> 
> It’s just gold-colored. But thanks for asking, because now Grunkle Stan has been following me around for two hours and giving me contemplative looks. I’m out of here as soon as he grabs something sharp.
> 
> (Not that he’d really…. wait, would he?)
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/119590146740/dipper-is-your-blood-actually-gold-or

 

Dipper stared silently, almost absently, at the cut in his arm, which was steadily leaking blood. It was starting to heal, but it was still bleeding sluggishly.

 

The problem wasn't the cut. The cut was nothing, a consequence of a miscalculation in fighting off a cultist with a silver knife that tried to get at Mabel. If it hadn't been a silver, enchanted knife, then he would have healed already.

 

Mabel was fine, though, and that was what important.

 

The problem was his blood. It still threw him, a full seven years after the Transcendence, to see gold pouring from his skin instead of crimson red. It was a stark reminder that there was nothing human left about him.

 

“Kid, you bleed all over that floor and you're the one gonna be cleaning it up,” Grunkle Stan grunted as he stumped into the living room, pulling off his suit jacket. “Blood don't come easy outta carpet ya know.”

 

Dipper flushed and wondered if it was showing up as gold or red, pulling the healing arm in closer to his body.

 

Stan eyed Dipper and the blood trickling down his arm, and Dipper wondered when the last time was that Stan had seen him bleed. It looked almost like some kind of idea was brewing in that crafty old head.

 

“Thought you didn't get hurt anymore,” Stan said, gesturing with his can, and Dipper's demonic hearing picked up the worry under the flippant tone. “Big bad demon an' all.”

 

Dipper shrugged, the wound finally gone completely. “I'm not that big yet,” he muttered, though the admission burned. “I'm powerful, and I'm getting more powerful, but I'm not that strong yet. I'm getting stronger all the time.”

 

Stan didn't say anything, just took a long drink as he eyed his nephew. He supposed it made sense that his nephew wasn't as powerful as he could be just yet, considering it hadn't even been a decade. Someday, though...

 

Eh, that was a worry for another day. Right now, Stan eyed the golden blood staining Dipper's shirt sleeve.

 

“That real gold, kid?” he asked, pointing at Dipper's sleeve with the hand that held his can.

 

Dipper glanced down at his sleeve, raising his arm so he could look at it closer. “I hadn't thought about it,” he said. Raising his arm higher, he screwed up his face, eying the stain carefully. “Pretty sure it's just gold colored...”

 

Stan grunted noncommittally, taking another drink, and Dipper went back to examining the blood on his sleeve before cleaning it with a little shake.

 

Though the blood was gone, Stan was still watching him with that calculating expression Dipper knew far too well.

 

“Grunkle Stan, no. It's not real gold,” he repeated.

 

“Still looks like it,” Stan said speculatively.

 

There was a brief pause, as both Pines sat calculating.

 

Finally, Dipper pointed at his Grunkle sternly. “Grunkle Stan, no,” he said. “No selling demon anything. Bad idea. Very bad idea.”

 

Stan scoffed. “Gettin' paranoid, there, kid,” he grunted. “Gettin' paranoid.”

 

Dipper glared and pointed at his eyes with two fingers, sharply flicking them towards Grunkle Stan. “Watching you,” he said, floating out of the room backwards. Grunkle Stan huffed out a laugh as Dipper floated away, warning again, “Watching you.”

 

 

Dipper blipped back into the house, hissing softly.

 

Damn, that hurt! And while it was a little fun, mostly right now it just hurt, and the blood was going to stain this suit. He was going to have to create a whole new one, at this rate, just so remembering the stain would stop bothering him.

 

And Henry was going to be so mad, they'd just cleaned the floor from Dipper's latest blood and slime meltdown and here he was, dripping demon blood on it again. That stuff took ages to scrub out from wood, and that wasn't counting the weird mixes it took to clean it.

 

...maybe they had something in the fridge Dipper could trade them for cleaning it up. It was the fastest, easiest way to get rid of the stains...

 

Dipper's thoughts were interrupted when the _plip_ of liquid hitting wood was suddenly replaced with the _plink_ of liquid hitting glass.

 

He glanced down and saw the jar, slipped right where he'd drip into it while he was thinking, and glared at his Grunkle, who was standing a few feet away, watching him.

 

Grunkle Stan took an unapologetic sip of his beer and shrugged with his free shoulder.

 

“Can't blame a man for trying.”

 

 

Dipper forgave his Grunkle, but he still kept an eye on Grunkle Stan every time the man reached for something sharp for the next few weeks.

 

Grunkle Stan didn't help by reaching for the jar every time Dipper managed to cut himself, or sometimes when he had the knife in his other hand.

 

The fake jabs with the sharp objects to make the demon jump also didn't help.

 

 

Still, after awhile, the fact that Dipper bled gold was forgotten as the random fact it was – something that just happened, not important.

 

 

Until Dipper found Grunkle Stan selling the hairballs he coughed up after bouts of dipnip.

 

The argument and subsequent sulking were destined to go down in Pines family history.


	71. A Gay Old Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People should think twice before lecturing strangers - especially in a post-Transcendence world.
> 
> Based on [this prompt.](http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/120443643678/random-idea-i-might-write-it-who-knows-)

 

Mabel loved having triplets. No, really, she did. She loved knowing that, with any luck, they would grow up the way she and Dipper had been set to, having each other's backs and always knowing there was someone in their corner (even if they only joined a sibling revolt out of principle sometimes) despite the inevitable sibling squabbles.

 

But at the moment, Mommy needed a break. Mommy needed a break real bad.

 

Mabel glanced at Henry over hyperactive triplet heads, and he nodded, on the same page already. Good husband, he was so getting a reward as soon as Mabel could manage it. And her silly moose had no clue he'd earned one, either. But seeing him be a good daddy to their kids really got her sweaters knitted wink wink nudge nudge.

 

Already Henry was herding the triplets toward the door, enticing them with the prospects of fresh air and a playground they hadn't yet seen rather than sitting through another lecture, since they were only going to be in this town for a few days while this particular Demon Con was going on. Though apparently, seeing Mommy yell at people about how wrong they were was also a strong motivator to stay, so it wasn't exactly an easy win.

 

Dipper hesitated, clearly torn between following the triplets and staying with his sister. There was almost an entire cow's worth of steak waiting for him back at the Shack to keep him physical and looking mortal for this trip, no matter which he chose, so Mabel patted his arm.

 

“Go be an uncle, bro-bro,” she urged. “You don't get to go out with the triplets in new places that much. It's just a lecture.”

 

“The last time you had to give a lecture, the convention hall ended up on fire and we had to bail you out of jail,” Dipper said flatly. “That's why you dragged me with you this time, remember?”

 

Mabel gave a raspberry, slapping her brother on the shoulder. “You're worrying too much! Come on, broseph, I'll call you when it's your part, and you'll know if things go wrong. Henry's gonna need your help with all three kids to wrangle. Go have fun.”

 

Dipper grinned hugely at his sister, starting to float after his brother. His feet slammed back onto the ground when she hissed “LIKE A PERSON!” and he stuck his tongue out at his sister, running backwards for a few steps before turning and sprinting after the rest of the family.

 

Mabel just shook her head fondly, laughing. At least she had that image to take in with her to this lecture.

 

 

The triplets darted around the playground, laughing manically. Willow would have to rest soon, or risk an asthma attack, but both adults figured she could have a bit of fun first.

 

For a child, Willow knew her limits well. She may have always tried to push them, but she knew them. They had Dipper if there was an emergency, at least.

 

Speaking of whom – the triplet's uncle was running about just as wildly as his niblings.

 

Henry just smiled as he shook his head and sat on the bench to watch. This part of the park was nearly empty, with most of the other parents farther away, so it didn't hurt anything for Dipper to act like the kids.

 

As if the thought had summoned him (and with Dipper, it was sometimes hard to tell), Dipper flopped down onto the bench beside Henry, still laughing.

 

“You have the best ideas,” Dipper said fondly, swinging an arm over Henry's shoulders. He gave a squeeze and pressed a kiss to Henry's cheek, rubbing his face against Henry's as he did, nuzzling Henry's cheek, being sweet and silly about it.

 

Since Dipper was practically vibrating with happiness (and Henry still, after all these years, sometimes found it unbelievable that the twins _wanted_ to shower him in affection of all kinds, that they loved him that damn much), Henry just laughed and gave Dipper a squeeze back.

 

He knew it wouldn't last – Mabel and Demon Cons usually didn't end well – but for the moment, he was going to enjoy this.

 

Dipper was warm and solid against his side, the kids were laughing, and the sun was warm and soft. All in all, so far, it was rather idyllic.

 

Then the tinny sound of music wafted over the park, as if to cap the day. Four sets of pleading eyes turned towards Henry, who was already standing up and laughing.

 

“I think we've earned a treat,” he said, and the kids cheered. “Keep on playing, I'll be right back. No, you stay and watch the kids,” he said firmly when Dipper started to get up. “We all know about you and ice cream.”

 

Dipper pretended to pout while the kids laughed. Willow took the opportunity to climb into her uncle's lap and take a little break. She was immediately pulled in closer, an arm wrapped around her waist as Uncle Dipper stroked her hair, Hank hopping up on the bench next to Uncle Dipper and leaning against his side.

 

Acacia was too hyped up to sit, so she tagged along with her father to help carry the ice cream. Henry knew, for all his faults, Dipper would take good care of the kids.

 

At his side, Acacia was chattering as she bounced along, and Henry predicted they were either going to have a very quiet ride home with everyone sleeping or a ride filled with over-tired whining.

 

He was on his way back with the treats (Tilly bars for himself and Hank, and a Starhug for Willow, while Acacia carefully carried the Dipster bars for herself and Dipper) when the ambush happened.

 

It might not have seemed like an ambush to anyone else, but Henry knew better. He knew from long, bitter experience as soon as he saw the fervent look in the man's eyes.

 

It was the look of a man determined to save others from what he considered 'sin', whether or not they needed saving.

 

The ice cream was going to melt, so Henry tuned out most of what the man was saying – it sounded like the beginning of a sermon, some kind of lecture, and he hated leaving Dipper to it but he wanted the kids to hear it even less – to get it passed out and the kids sent off to the playground before they had to hear the hate being spewed.

 

Willow looked at the man with that too-wide eyed look she'd gotten from her uncle, but followed her siblings to play when urged.

 

For the moment, the interloper was focusing his rant at Dipper. It seemed that, when he appeared human, Dipper looked harmless, with his floof of brown hair and big innocent eyes, so short and slight, especially next to Henry, even more so when he was sitting and Henry was still standing, and so was seen as the easier target.

 

Since Dipper seemed to be more amused than angry, Henry ignored the man to check on his kids, who had gone off to keep playing.

 

Henry wasn't sure just who he was saving, but he turned back to intercede just in time to hear more of the lecture.

 

“...a most shameful display!” the man was saying, and Henry wondered for a second just what the man was talking about. A hug and a kiss on the cheek were hardly shameful, especially brotherly affection like Dipper liked to hand out. Okay, he was a little more handsy and physical than some, but...

 

Then the man started talking about the evils of being gay, and exorcisms, and Henry's temper started to fray. And from the look on Dipper's face, he was farther along to line to snapping than Henry, his amusement fading quickly. After all, Henry had heard all of his dad's lectures and rantings throughout the years, and this lacked the terrifying vitriol, the knowledge that at any moment, there would be blows to match the words.

 

So Henry let the words flow over him and waited for a moment when he could make his family's escape.

 

Until...

 

“...must be purged of the homosexual demons within you! A pair of modern gay incubi, the both of you, here to claim the children for Satan and drag them down into the pits of depravity with you!”

 

And Henry. lost. it.

 

The look on Dipper's face as he processed just what he'd been called. The irony of trying to insult Dipper by calling him a demon. The double irony of calling him an incubus. The self righteous look on the man's face.

 

The dawning realization on Dipper's face as he realized just what meaning the man had interpreted to his affectionate gestures towards Henry.

 

It was too much, and Henry collapsed onto the bench like a felled tree, laughing so hard he couldn't breathe, starting to go as red as his hair as tears poured down his face.

 

Their lecturer stood dumbfounded for a few seconds before he rallied and began his lecture again. Didn't Henry realized their _souls_ were at stake? That they had a duty to live a _proper life_ and have a _proper marriage_ and...

 

Dipper draped himself over Henry's lap, overdramatic and ridiculous, the back of his hand pressed to his forehead and leg lifted into the air, foot gracefully pointed. “Oh, my _darling!_ To think that my _forbidden love_ has cost you so! How can I _live_ with myself, knowing that my love has caused you this _pain!_ ”

 

Henry was at the point of laughing so hard he wasn't making noise anymore. He was fairly sure he could hear the kids cracking up in the distance over his wheezing, most likely at him.

 

Encouraged, Dipper upped his game, still sprawled across Henry's lap, with even more dramatics, and Henry laughed so hard he had to spare an arm to snag Dipper around the waist, lest Dipper be laughed off Henry's lap.

 

Their haranguer, thrown by their laughter and silliness, the mockery and dramatics, scowled. “You may laugh now, but someday you'll regret turning your back on your proper duties! You are laughing away a chance at redemption, of purging yourselves of the demons that plague you and have set you to this sinful lifestyle!”

 

Henry somehow, between gasps for air, managed to choke out a “We're good, thanks,” still barely keeping himself upright, let alone Dipper, who finally toppled off Henry's lap, cackling until he cried.

 

With an affronted sniff, the man turned to leave.

 

“Hey,” Dipper, shoving himself up on one elbow, called after the retreating man, who was stalking off as if personally offended that the two men weren't taking him up on his 'generous' offer.

 

The man turned back, his face wreathed in smug smiles, as if he truly believed the two men he had just been haranguing had only needed those few seconds to have a change of heart. Dipper winked at him – and Henry saw the eye Dipper blinked with turning from the warm brown that matched his sister's to the black and gold of his usual form.

 

The man blanched, taking an involuntary step backwards as his hands came up as if to ward off the obvious nonhuman in front of him.

 

Dipper's grin had more than a hint of fang when he said, “Big difference between gay and demon. I would know. Better watch who you start lecturing from now on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though it would be fun to watch and see who gets the names of the ice creams the ones in this fic are based on, I'm just going to say them here: Dairy Queen's Dilly Bars (chocolate, cherry, or butterscotch shell over vanilla ice cream), Starkiss (sherbert, sometimes all one flavor, sometimes layers of three different flavors), and Buster bar (chocolate fudge, ice cream, and peanuts coated with chocolate). Now I want a Starkiss bar.


	72. Acceptable Risks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Know how sometimes, when you're under stress, you call someone you look up to or care about 'mom' or 'dad'? Yeah...
> 
>  
> 
> Stan needs to take better care of himself.
> 
> Inspired by this prompt: http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/107865645048/okay-im-really-sorry-for-this-but-i-had-this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on this one off and on for awhile now, and, well...yeah I'm calling it done.

 

Ever since the kids, now teenagers, had moved in with him, Stan had been trying to pull back on the dangerous crap. A little, at least. The kids needed him right now, so he didn't have time or room to be risky.

 

He'd been being risky ever since the Transcendence. Trying to drown out the memory of Mabel's screams, Dipper's mangled hat lying in a puddle of blood, those first few days...

 

Well, now Ford was off traveling the world, and Stan had been doing stupidly risky things again despite being the town's hero in his own name. But that had to stop, and fast, now that the twins were here. He couldn't...ironically enough, he couldn't risk being risky anymore.

 

Not when both twins were both still so fragile. Not physically, at least, physically they were doing...well, he couldn't say great, not with Dipper's...condition, but he supposed they could be called physically fit. Emotionally, though...they'd never admit to being fragile, but Stan understood their position right now a bit too well for his own comfort. The reasons might be different, and they might still have had contact and know that they were loved, loved so much that their parents were willing to let them go, but, well...

 

But, risky or not, this trip would set them up for the next few months at the least, until he could figure out some new way to make a living for them now that folks weren't coming by to see his homemade mysteries, what with the real things being everywhere and part of the everyday.

 

Well, he knew more about the supernatural than just about anyone, save his great-niece and nephew, thanks to his brainiac of a brother's journals and thirty years of living in Gravity Falls, but he didn't have the clout and reputation to back it up yet.

 

It was happening, but too slow to make a steady living. As to his brother...well, he had no clue where Poindexter was right now. He'd run off soon after the whole Transcendence happened, just stopping in now and then to drop off old journals or samples, lock himself in the basement for a week, and disappear again.

 

...at least Ford was talking to them again. Awful as everything was, actually forcing him and Ford to talk was one of the few decent things to come out of the whole mess. Didn't make up for any of the things that happened that day, but Stan had learned to appreciate the little things a long time ago. They'd had a good couple years on that boat before Stan needed to return to Gravity Falls permanently. And Ford'd left some kind of mirror-portal thing that they could use to talk to him, and, well...they were talking more often then the twins' parents were talking to the kids.

 

The kids had been with him for almost a year, but what had been (not really, not if he was being honest with himself) working to keep Stan fed and clothed wasn't good enough now. Sure, Dipper didn't really need things like food with the way things were (and that thought hurt every time it crossed his mind so he refused to let it continue) but Mabel needed lots of things, and yeah the twins' parents were making sure their kids had everything they needed but Stan had to help too. And Dipper leaving deer and cow carcasses on the back porch like a particularly successful housecat was only going to work for so long.

 

Which lead to his current job. Virgil, Bob, and Andrew weren't the brightest or the best, but they were loyal. If things had worked out differently, they might have even been friends. As it was, well, they saw each other at Order of the Holy Mackerel meetings, and that was about it. Acquaintances that were almost friends, as it were.

 

(Things were...better, around town, now that Stanley Pines was the town hero instead of just the town grifter. Even if Stan didn't think he'd earned it. If he really was a hero, then Dipper wouldn't be...)

 

But Bob was right, this was a good opportunity – if a little shady. Well, wouldn't be the first time Stan did something on the shady side for cash. Hell, this worked out the way it was supposed to and it would be a lot less shady than some things he'd done.

 

It was supposed to be simple, just go in, make the exchange, and leave. Good old in and out.

 

Stan knew better. Nothing in his life had ever been simple or gone the way it should, why would it start now?

 

So just for security, he slipped one of Mabel's cards, with a glitter glue version of Dipper's circle on it, into a coat pocket next to his brass knuckles, and handed another to Andrew, who could be trusted to keep his head in a crises, and told him to smear blood on it if things went south.

 

Andrew could be trusted to follow orders from people like Stan and and not ask questions, so he just looked at the card for a few seconds blankly before he nodded and the card disappeared somewhere in the noisome recesses of his clothes.

 

Stan might not have taken the card rather than some other backup, but...it was a compromise, of sorts. Mabel didn't ask where he was going and what he was doing, he took the card and used it if he had to.

 

It was far too hard to say no to those eyes, especially lately, what with everything. Plus, it wasn't like it was a big deal – just take a little card along with him, give one to one of the other guys, and actually use it if things went south.

 

And right now, staring down a group of edgy, nervous newbies, Stan was suddenly feeling a surge of thankfulness that he had that ace in the hole. Because these boys were new to the game, and on edge with it, brandishing weapons (unnecessary, foolish, more likely to hurt someone if you carried a weapon, feeling bigger and badder than you were or feeling more uneasy knowing you had the thing there and might need to use it, more likely to leave with someone hurt with those things) and shifting uneasily.

 

He had no idea where they were getting the cash for this, probably from some mob boss or something that Stan didn't want to mess with if they were willing to pay that much for something as fanciful as a 'Diadem of Mirages' (Dipper had gotten it in a deal, and was willing to let Stan have it – for Mabel. Plus, according to the demon, the Diadem didn't create mirages for other people, like the information being banded around said – it made the wearer see them instead, and apparently its favorite was to make them think it worked the way the legends said) but it didn't matter. It was fairly harmless, and they needed the cash. It was like fleecing the tourists, just with more powerful fakes.

 

Stan could feel his temper boiling at the unnecessary posturing and let Bob handle the negotiations. He could remember being that young and vulnerable, though these kids didn't have half the excuses he'd had. Still wasn't going to forgive them if they overreacted.

 

As if the thought was an omen, one of the men (boys, really, just on the edge of adulthood, way too young to be out here, just like he'd been) jumped at a noise, his arm jerking.

 

For a second, Stan thought the noise he'd heard was just a car backfiring, until white hot pain exploded across his chest.

 

He knew he hit the ground, had been shot before long ago so he knew seconds after it happened that he'd been shot, again, even as the world began to spiral out of focus.

 

It was hard to breathe, and he could feel something hot and sticky on his chest, knew it was blood, he had to move, get up, get out of here and get help, because this was bad, this was very, very bad, but even the pain of the cold, gravel strewn ground under his back couldn't get him to get up.

 

As the blackness closed in, his last conscious thought was of the two teens back at the Mystery Shack, who needed him, and he tried to keep fighting even as he started to slip under.

 

 

The boys shrieked and swore, pounding feet echoing as they ran, leaving behind the Diadem of Mirages behind and dropping the money without making the trade.

 

Virgil caught the diadem almost absently before it hit the ground and broke as Bob and Andrew fell to their knees beside Stan, cursing.

 

Bob was pressing his hands to the wound, cursing Stan out and demanding he fight, dammit, while Andrew dug through his clothes and yanked out the card Stan had given him.

 

Ignoring Virgil and Bob, who were demanding to know what he was doing, he dipped it in the blood on the ground beside Stan the way he'd been told.

 

Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't for smoke to fill the alleyway, gold eyes blinking open within the cloud and staring at him eerily.

 

Virgil shrieked and tried to run, when Bob grabbed his ankle, dropping the other man to the ground. “Don't even think about it,” Bob hissed while those gold eyes searched them, smoke clearing to reveal what had to be a demon, one with an uncanny resemblance to a human teenager.

 

“Stan said to dip th' card in blood if things went south an' they did!” Andrew blurted before the demon could say anything, those gold eyes fastening on Stan and going huge. “Please, ya gotta help 'im!”

 

Virgil's hissed “What are you _doing..._ ” stuttered off as the demon hit his knees beside Stan, clawed hands scrambling frantically over Stan's bloody chest.

 

“N̢o̸,̀ no,͝ ͏n̴o, no, ̡Stán, Stan, yo̕u g͘o͞tt͝a st͢ay̡ wi͝th̕ m̢e ̡h̵ere, ҉do҉ y̶ou ́he͟a̷r͟ me?” the demon pleaded, hands moving desperately over the wound in Stan's chest. 

 

Blue fire gathered around the demon's hands and Stan's chest, and the demon started muttering to himself as it started to flow into Stan's chest.

 

“Um...don't we need to, like, make a deal or something?” Bob asked hesitantly, backing away from Stan and the demon while wringing his hands, watching anxiously. “Like...you can have the Diadem of Mirages for saving Stan, okay?”

 

“It's ours, what are you,” Virgil started to hiss, cut off by Bob hissing back that it was the Diadem or _Stan_ , get with it man, their argument cut off by the demon.

 

“Y̛es̨,́ ok͠a̢ý,̵ ̸yea͟h,́ ͞th́at'll ̨wor̵k, no͝w̢ D̀̀Ơ̴̛Ņ̶'͝T҉ ̴̨D̢I̡͘͝S͢T̴͘R͜͜A̸͢C͞T͏ ̴͠M̷̡E̵!̶” the demon, Alcor, snapped, his head whipping up to glare at Bob for a few precious seconds, golden eyes huge and panicked. “I̶...I͢ ca̸n҉'t...j͡u͜s͘t͢ ͢d̶on̶'t talk t͞o ̡me̛ righ͡t ͘now!͏ I d̴on't̸ kn͝ow̵ what ̷t͢o  _ do! _ ” The last word was almost a wail, the demon sounding far too young, too much like a human child, as he hunched again over Stan's limp body.

 

The alley was quiet then, save for Alcor's muttering as he fought for Stan's life, growing more frantic with each minute that passed and Stan didn't wake.

 

Then Stan stopped breathing, the harsh rattle of his gasping for ai simply stopping. Their echoes lingered as the demon stared down at Stan in disbelief, gold flowing from his eyes like human tears.

 

“N҉O! N͞o͝,͏ ̨p̨l͠èa̕se,͠ ͘yo̧u ̛can̶'̀t̛.̴..͘” Alcor cried, more power shoved into an unresponsive Stan, harder and more desperate than before.

 

Moments later, his power flickered and the blue flames died, out of power. Alcor wailed, like a child, and the men stepped back a few more steps, both from the force of his grief and out of respect. It was difficult to watch as the demon sobbed on Stan's chest, hitting him a few times with a closed fist over the partially closed wound before both fists clenched into the fabric of Stan's suit.

 

“Da̕d́,͠ ̕ple̛as̕ę, ͜pl̶e̵ase͢ ̵w͞a̛ke ҉u̷p̢..͘. ” Alcor wailed. “We ̡ne̴ed̶ ̕y͏ou͏,͝ plea̵se͘ y̕o̢ư ̕go̵t̀t͏a.̀..̛”

 

He broke off into sobs that glitched and sputtered, shrinking until he was the size of a child, still clutching at Stan's chest. The three humans stared in shock.

 

Hesitantly, Andrew stepped forward, only to pause with their arm raised. That grief sounded real, but...this was a demon. Could they even...how did you comfort a demon?

 

Then Stan gasped for air, harsh and loud.

 

Everyone in the alley froze. Stan coughed again, moving weakly. His eyes cracked open, gaze traveling across the alley until they settled on the demon, still tiny and crouching over him.

 

Instead of panicking, like a rational person, at the sight of a demon so close to his face, Stan smiled. It was a little fuzzy, but fond and loving all the same.

 

He raised his hand, weakly, and stroked the demon's hair twice before it settled on top of the child's head. “Hey, kid,” he rasped. A thumb brushed over the demon's cheek, brushing away some of the gold tears. “Why you cryin'? Take more'n that to take me down.”

 

Alcor's face crumpled and he threw his arms around Stan's neck with another wail, a thankful one. The atmosphere of the alley lightened considerably as Stan tried to lever himself up, helped yet also somewhat hindered by the demon, who was still hovering. When Stan looked over at the other men Alcor took the opportunity to lick the blood off his hands, dipping them into the puddles of it on the ground, looking healthier with every lick, though he also managed to somehow look ashamed as he cleaned his hands.

 

Stan groaned, rubbing at the mostly healed wound again, a clawed hand pulling his hand away from it. He grunted a little but ignored it otherwise to look at the others. “Guess I should be grateful you listened,” he muttered, “so yeah. Thanks. Heh. Didn't think how I'd explain this...”

 

“...how about you try,” Bob said, “ _ dad _ .”

 

Both demon and conman froze, a gold tinted blush spreading across Alcor's face even as Stan looked at them blankly.

 

“...Dad...?” Stan said, still blank, turning to look down at the demon, who suddenly seemed to find this rapidly twirling claws highly interesting.

 

“Sorry,” the demon said in a tiny voice, still blushing furiously. “It just...kind of...happened? I was panicking...” Stan smirked and ruffled Alcor's hair again before punching the demon in the arm.

 

“ _Stan_...” Virgil said warningly. “You get shot, a demon appears, it heals you without a deal...well, okay, Bob offered him the Diadem of Mirages but we didn't shake on it...and then calls you 'dad' when we nearly lost you. You got some 'splaining to do.”


	73. It's Morphin' Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dipper was still new to the demon "business persona" thing (how to be scary, intimidating and all that) he tried a more traditional demon look. For a short while Alcor had horns and a tail before he was confident that he was scary enough the way he was.
> 
> Love the idea of him having an experimental phase where he tried out morphs like nobody’s business.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/121269742055/when-dipper-was-still-new-to-the-demon-business

 

Dipper examined himself in the bathroom mirror. It was still a disconcerting experience, to look in the mirror and see gold on black eyes looking back at him instead of the brown eyes he still half expected.

 

He just hadn't gotten used to the change in his appearance, even after four years like this. It felt wrong to try and change it to the way he used to look, uncomfortable in his own skin, but it still caught him off guard when he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror.

 

Opening his mouth, Dipper pulled at the corners of his lips, taking a closer look at the fangs that had replaced his teeth.

 

Sitting back in midair, he looked over the rest of his appearance with a critical frown. The summonses had been coming more and more often as the years passed, (and he was deliberately not going to think about a few of them, especially that terrible one, where he was bound for nearly three full days...) and he doubted the way he looked now was going to cut it much longer.

 

He'd just recently changed his outfit permanently – he'd wanted to cling to the shorts and t-shirt he'd worn for so much of his human life for as long as possible, but the suit was so much more comfortable now, seemed to fit him in ways the shorts no longer did. That...that had scared him, but after he took some tips from Grunkle Stan, well, he was starting to like it. It looked...professional. Dapper.

 

Giving himself another once-over in the mirror, Dipper gave a little spin. With a thought he changed the cufflinks and gold triangles that held the chain that decorated his tailcoat into stars and smiled. Much better. That had been bothering him.

 

Still...he leaned on the counter, unsatisfied. He didn't really look at that demonic, ears and eyes, fangs and claws notwithstanding.

 

Okay, the wings helped, but they were in such an odd position...

 

Maybe...well, he could shapeshift now. Maybe he could try a few things? See if he couldn't be...well, a teenage boy was only scary to a select few, right? But what if...

 

 

Mabel snerked, covering her mouth with both hands, which were insufficient to hide her grin.

 

Dipper blushed and pouted, tail lashing as he crossed his arms and looked away.

 

Mabel cleared her throat and did her best to hold back her giggles and look at her brother seriously.

 

Chin in hand, she circled Dipper, considering his shift with her artist's eye. This was a better morph than the previous tries at being more 'professionally demonic', she supposed.

 

Dipper's first try at being a scarier demon had been just plain silly, really. Though it made sense that her nerdy brother would come up with that idea for a shift, considering how ubiquitous it was. But honestly, he'd looked like one of the rubber demons they sold at the Halloween store, too unrealistic to be scary, the kind of shift that made everyone start looking for the costume's zipper. Red was not her brother's color, especially not when it was his skin. He'd looked like a teenager with sunburn and a cheap costume.

 

The second attempt had been her idea, and...yeah it looked better in her head than it had in reality. Neon colors weren't that scary, save in a disorienting manner, not even when they were an unexpected surprise on a demon. Mostly only worked as a confusion method, not as intimidation.

 

The third try had left Dipper stretched out, skin blackened and grey. His arms and legs had been stretched out too long and too thin, stretched until he walked digitigrade, with grey, animallistic feet and thick black claws. His suit had hung, tattered and shredded, from his frame, ribs visible through his skin. His face had been blank, only his eyes, featureless and black, remaining.

 

It had made Mabel scream when she'd first seen it, and the tears in her eyes guaranteed Dipper wasn't going to try that one again anytime soon, despite the terror it obviously inspired. He wanted his summoners to be afraid, but not that terrified...well, usually.

 

Plus, he was going to see his terrified sister every time he used that, and...no. He never wanted to be the one to make her look like that.

 

Morph four was pretty much just Goth Dipper, with heavy black makeup and black polish on his claws, and Mabel had laughed until she cried when she first saw him, before borrowing some of Robbie's old music to play at her brother every time she saw him for the next week.

 

...and she might have taken some pictures. And might have shown Robbie as well as their other friends. And put a copy in her scrapbook. If anyone understood the shame of the goth phrase, it was Robbie. Not that he'd stopped being goth, he'd just...grown into it, so it was goth and not angsty teenage emo.

 

And those were just the big ones, the ones Dipper had come to show Mabel. She knew for a fact her brother had been posing in front of the mirror for hours, trying out shape after shape, adjustment after adjustment, for the past few weeks.

 

Mabel really, really liked some of the animal inspired ones. She was going to have to try to talk Dipper into hanging out in those forms once in awhile. The giant wolf and giant lion were her favorites, (so big and soft and cuddly! With big glowy eyes and fluffy fur!) though her brother with just the fluffy ears and tail was downright adorable.

 

Apparently, some of them were easier to hold as a physical form at the moment than his human form when he didn't have a deal going on. And, to Dipper's great disgust, it seemed like the easiest of them for him to hold was the form of a small, black cat.

 

It was so stinkin' cute and Mabel needed him to use it more often. And she needed all the pictures. And snuggles.

 

Man, he needed to go to a summons or two in some of the full, demonic animal form – or better yet, take her cult bashing in those forms. Seriously, riding into battle on her giant black with flaming golden eyes wolf or lion brother while wielding a super hot flame-y sword would be the most amazing thing ever!

 

And all that fur looked super soft. Mabel just wanted to bury her face and snorgle it.

 

This latest attempt at being scarier was pretty stereotypical, give or take, though not as bad as the first. A long black tail tipped with a triangle twitched behind Dipper, while long, black, wickedly sharp horns curved over her brother's head, curling behind his ears and ending in sharp points by his cheeks. His canines were longer than usual, peeking over the edges of his lips, and his little wings were grown huge, as large as he was, shifted up to his shoulders.

 

“Want a pitchfork, there, bro?” Mabel asked, her voice shot through with giggles as she shook with more.

 

“Very funny,” Dipper replied dryly. “I think I've got it this time. This shift should make people take me seriously.”

 

“Ooooor we could just keep playing with the shapeshifting thing,” Mabel said, slinging an arm over her brother's shoulders and gesturing widely with her free arm. “You're missing some serious opportunities here focusing on trying to be scary, bro.”

 

“Maybe, maybe later,” Dipper stammered, sliding out from under his sister's arm, careful not to catch her with his new horns. “I'm still not a fan of all this shapeshifting.”

 

His ear twitched. “Got a summons,” he said before Mabel could argue about that, giving his sister a grin. “This shift's got to work!”

 

 

Three hours after the summons and, according the Mabel, Dipper hadn't left the attic where he was sulking.

 

She'd tried to talk to him, but had come down with a pensive look on her face and asked Stan to talk to him instead.

 

With a grumble for each stair he had to climb – there was a reason he'd moved his room to the bottom floor of the house, damn it – Stan climbed the stairs.

 

Given what Mabel had said about why Dipper was sulking, he could figure out why she wanted Stan to talk to him. Eh, wouldn't be the first time he gave the kid advice about conning and appearance, wouldn't be the last.

 

...heh, who would've guessed all those years on the run would lead to giving advice to a demon on how to con folks?

 

“Kid, ya up here?” Stan grunted, shoving the door of the attic open enough to poke his head inside.

 

The attic looked deserted, but there was a heaviness to the air that Stan recognized as sulky Dipper.

 

“Right. Get on out here kid, we need to talk,” he said stiffly. Was he ever going to get used to having to do these things? Well, Dipper needed the talk right now, so...nobody else was going to do it. “Got a six pack of Pitt here, that should hold ya for a bit.”

 

Dipper didn't materialize, and Stan grimaced. “Gotta, gotta do this the hard way, huh?” he grumbled, pulling the piece of paper Mabel had laminated for him out of a pocket.

 

Eyeing it and debating, Stan dug in his other pocket and pulled out a cigar. Clipping off the end and taking a few puffs, he ground the lit end against the center of the circle, effectively sacrificing his cigar.

 

Dipper flickered into being, arms crossed and disgusted. “Really, Grunkle Stan?”

 

“Hush up and listen. You need another of these talks, and I'm not coughing up blood for this one. I don't heal fast enough for that crap now.” He sat down hard on Mabel's bed, watching Dipper until the kid sat down on the bed opposite, the one that Mabel stubbornly kept in the room as if Dipper still used it.

 

Dipper still had the horns and tail, but the horns were duller now, no longer polished to a shine, and the tips were blunted, while the tail drooped listlessly over the side of the bed.

 

“I don't get it, Grunkle Stan. I thought I had it this time. I mean, there's a reason people picture this,” Dipper flicked a clawed finger at the horns still gracing his head, “when they talk about demons, right? So why aren't they scared of me like this?”

 

“Well that's simple,” Grunkle Stan said, gesturing broadly. “You're trying too hard, kid. That's what's wrong. The rubes are seeing right through you. You're too stereotypical, too Halloween. That's why they ain't taking you serious.”

 

He paused as Dipper mulled that over.

 

“Stick with what you got, kid. The claws 'n' fangs 'n' eyes. Subtle. Draw the eye with the prop,” a nod towards the cane Stan held, similar to the one Dipper had created for himself but still had a tendency to forget to use, “an' let their imaginations fill in the rest. Like a horror flick. Always scarier when it's just a bit off than when it's up in your face. 's how the Mystery Shack was a success – got it all up in their faces, so it wasn't scary. Just realistic enough to keep 'em coming, but safe. You gotta do the opposite. Cold, businesslike. Or flighty demon. Choose a schtick and stick with it through the whole con. Save the big changes for when you really want to make a statement.”

 

“But Grunkle Stan, I'm a _demon_ ,” Dipper moaned. “I'm supposed to be terrifying, and I'm...not.”

 

“Eh, if you think about it, a flying triangle in a top hat doesn't sound scary,” Stan pointed out. “It was all in the presence. You'll get there, kid. The rubes can smell when you're desperate and trying too hard. Use the props, be subtle, let them underestimate you. Then confuse them by showin' up in some weird shape.”

 

 

(Despite the talk, Dipper still tried more, subtler shifts off and on for about a year before deciding his grunkle was right – he was scary enough as he was. Especially when he found he unthinkingly went blacker than black when angered, with featureless golden eyes and tracery of brickwork, subtle and terrifying.

 

...didn't stop him from going overboard occasionally, though. What was the point in being able to change your form on a whim if you didn't go over the top every so often?)

 

(And Mabel did, eventually, get her wish to ride her larger-than-life wolf demon brother into battle while wielding a flaming sword. How was Dipper supposed to refuse a request like that?)


	74. Meeting A Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time close friends and family saw Dipper in his object form.

**Mabel**

 

Mabel stared at her brother, blinking slowly. He blinked back with a single eye, tiny little pipe cleaner arms shifting restlessly.

 

This was new.

 

Part of Mabel was screaming, huddling down inside her sweater, memories of a a triangle and her brother's screams echoing inside her head.

 

The rest was seeing through her brother's bravado, his attempt at pretending everything was okay, as if he wasn't upset about this development.

 

“...you think this is permanent?” she asked after a few minutes had passed, needing to say something but this time worried about saying something that would send both of them spiraling out of control and knowing she had to be the adult in this situation despite their parents being just downstairs because they wouldn't be any help right now and that wasn't fair to her but it was the truth.

 

The joking could come later, to make them both feel better.

 

“No, I'm just too tired to stay human shaped,” her brother answered, thankfully, both of them relieved by his answer. “I think how I usually look is my default form now, and this is sort of...a power saving mode? I'm still working on the details.”

 

Mabel nodded as Dipper spoke, doing her best to hide how freaked she'd been. He could see her moods now, faintly, so he had to know, but it didn't mean she had to be obvious about it. Now that she was calming down, though...well...her brother was pretty cute as a star.

 

But he was also still pretty obviously upset about this. Well, that couldn't stand! It was time to unleash the Power of Mabel!

 

“Wait here, broseph,” she said, gesturing with both hands outspread. “Just hang out in here and wait.”

 

Impatiently, and more than a little nervously, Dipper waited. He knew Mabel loved and accepted him, but...what ifs kept playing through his mind, and he began to float back and forth across the room, the closest he could come to pacing while like this.

 

This was going to be a long wait.

 

 

Despite the dawning knowledge of his own near-omniscience, Dipper was still unsure just how much time had passed before his sister returned.

 

“Close your eyes, Dipper!” she called through the door to his room, which their parents still hadn't touched. “Well...eye. Whatever. ...and no peeking with demon-y powers!” she added quickly.

 

Dipper rolled his eye but complied. In the darkness he heard his sister enter the room, the door closing with a quiet click behind her and the rustling of fabric as she, he assumed, adjusted whatever sweater she had deemed appropriate to tease him with.

 

“Okay bro – open it up!”

 

Dipper opened his eye and crossed pipe cleaner arms. “Oh, the shooting star sweater. Very fun...ny...” he trailed off as he caught the changes to Mabel's favorite sweater.

 

His eye began to well up and it took all his self control to not let the tears spill, giving up when Mabel held out her arms, shooting into the hug.

 

Because Mabel's favorite sweater, the shooting star that was her zodiac symbol, the formerly plain star streaming a rainbow across the front of Mabel's favorite sweater in her entire collection now sported arms and legs in thin black yarn, a tiny top hat, and a black on gold eye, and somehow she'd managed to look make his image look happy, joyful even.

 

“...you're all soft and squishy, bro. Like a plushie.”

 

“...don't ruin the moment, Mabes.”

 

 

**Mark & Anna**

 

Mark and Anna Pines were dealing with the knowledge that their child had turned into a demon the best that they could, really they were.

 

It was unfair to their surviving...their human...their _children_ to pretend like they were handling it well, and they both knew most of the adapting was being shoved onto their daughter's shoulders, and that was even more unfair. The kids were thirteen, this wasn't supposed to be their job.

 

But it was hard to meet their son's eyes, the few times his sister summoned him onto the physical plane, when those eyes were now gold on black, to not stare at the pointed tips on his ears or the claws on his fingertips or how his feet never touched the floor. To try and pretend like he was still just their little boy, and that they weren't in some way afraid of what he'd become.

 

(Though they did find themselves managing a few small things, like when Anna brought home some teething rings after she caught Dipper, physical for a brief moment, chewing on a bag of frozen vegetables, tears in his eyes, and later learned from Mabel that his teeth were re-growing. Imagine, being thirteen years old and having to go through all that again...her poor little boy.)

 

They were trying. It wasn't enough, but they were. Despite everything, despite being so afraid they were looking for reasons to avoid their own child (and oh, did that hurt, to know it was their child they were so afraid of) they still loved him.

 

But this...this they really didn't know how to handle.

 

Mabel had just come barreling down the stairs, clutching something tight to her chest. At first, they assumed it was a new craft project their daughter had finished – until it moved, pulling a leg out of reach of Waddles, who had tried to nibble at it.

 

“Mom! Dad! Check it out! Dipdop ran out of steam and he needed to rest and then he sneezed and poof!” their daughter crowed, holding out the...thing she was carrying. “He's all soft and squishy!”

 

It looked like a star. A big, plush star, with skinny little arms and legs, wearing a bow tie and a top hat, with one eye in the center, a black eye with a slitted yellow pupil.

 

They still thought maybe, just maybe, this was something silly their daughter had created. Maybe the leg twitch was just their daughter, moving it out of her beloved pet's reach.

 

Until the eye moved. It looked between them, focusing on each of them in turn, and there was no question that it was alive, that that eye could see them, that this was no toy.

 

“Mooom,” the star whined, in her son's voice, as Anna stared at it in wide-eyed stunned silence at this thing her daughter held, “Make her stooop.”

 

Anna gave a little scream, gripping her husband's arm, before she could stop herself. Mark, for his part, was staring at the star with open dismay as Mabel hugged it tight, making the little arms and legs fly up with a squeak of protest.

 

Then Mabel caught their expressions and visibly drooped, clutching her brother the star a little gentler to her chest.

 

Mark and Anna tried to rally, but it was too late. The damage was done.

 

It would be years before they would be allowed to see the star-form again.

 

 

**Stan**

 

Stan jumped, spilling his beer all over himself.

 

The star floating in the middle of the living room winced, an impressive feat with just one eye, more of a full body flinch.

 

It was glowing faintly, and wore a top hat and tie, and for a minute all Stan could see was the golden glow, a floating demon in the room, and he was on his feet without realizing it.

 

He was ashamed of his instant reaction a second later, but it was only a bare brush of shame. Reactions like that had kept him alive this long, they were what was going to keep him and the kids alive.

 

“I got tired,” his great nephew said sulkily as his grunkle continued to stand and watch. Frowning, Stan studied the star that was his nephew. Mabel mentioned something about this, didn't she? About getting so tired Dipper had to do a sort of 'power save mode'? Now that he was looking closer, apart from the color and accessories, Dipper didn't look that much like Cipher...

 

Suddenly Dipper began to bob in midair, squawking indignantly. “Waddles! Cut it out!”

 

Stan glanced down at the floor where Waddles had grabbed onto Dipper's floating leg and was tugging and chewing on it, grunting happily.

 

Stan had approximately two seconds of surprise before he broke, cackling at the top of his lungs and slapping his knee. “Mabel! Get down here! And bring the camera!” he shouted.

 

“Grunkle Stan nooooooooooooooo”

 

 

**Candy, Grenda, & Pacifica**

 

Sitting in a row, solemn as judges, the three girls stared at Dipper. It was hard to fidget in this shape, so he didn't, letting his glow dim and brighten in faint echo of breathing as he awaited their sentence.

 

Around them flowed Mabel's words, her explanation of what and why and how, and the three young women still stared at Dipper blankly expressionless, Pacifica's the mask well taught to her over the years, Candy's hidden by her glasses, and Grenda sitting and absorbing it all.

 

Eventually even Mabel's words stopped, the nervous flow stuttering off as the other three women still didn't react.

 

Just as the twins were beginning to wonder if this was the last straw, if they had finally lost the sanctuary they had needed so badly, Pacifica sighed.

 

“I suppose we should have seen this coming,” she said, just arrogantly enough to tease, only recently comfortable enough to try, thanks to her parent's influence. “At least this demon doesn't spend _all_ his time flying around like a kid's toy.”

 

Dipper flickered in annoyance, was about to start the argument Pacifica was obviously dangling for, when he was stopped short.

 

“Why did you not tell us this sooner?” Candy asked, quietly, adjusting her glasses, and Dipper may have been bad at the whole 'people' thing but he didn't have to be good at it to hear the hurt there.

 

“Because Dipper doesn't like to talk about it,” Mabel said, flopping down on her bed, opposite the other girls. “I don't think he'd ever use this shape if he had a choice.”

 

“I look like _him_ ,” Dipper spat before any of them could try to argue.

 

Candy and Grenda exchanged a look, slow and calculating, and Dipper felt a chill pass down his non-existent spine.

 

“Will have to do something about that,” Candy said. Grenda and Pacifica grinned, both pulling cases full of makeup from some mysterious recess of their bags.

 

Dipper single eye went wide. “Oh heck no,” he blurted and darted towards the door.

 

As it turned out, flying stars are incredibly difficult to catch. Especially when they are properly motivated.

 

Unless an ill-aimed grab makes it spiral out of control and get stuck in the wall like a ninja star, that is.

 

 

**Wendy**

 

The first time Wendy saw Dipper's object form, she pitched an ax at him. He...couldn't really blame her for that.

 

Besides, she apologized.

 

As soon as she realized it was Dipper, at least.

 

They ended up watching a movie, they way they had planned to spend the evening, only now Dipper was plopped into Wendy's lap like the plushie he resembled, silently reassuring comfort.

 

 

**Soos**

 

Soos stared. He'd come by the reclaimed Shack to help Stan put up more bookshelves in the museum to turn it into a library, and run the surprise of a currently star-shaped Dipper in the kitchen.

 

They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, awkward and heavy.

 

“Sooo...” Soos finally said. “Lookin, lookin a little more star shaped than usual there dude.”

 

“...I noticed,” Dipper said sourly.

 

The awkward silence returned, until Soos laughed. “Hey dude, you could be part of the holiday decorations this year in town. That'd be cool.”

 

Dipper's single eye blinked at him for a few seconds before he brightened, the closest he could come in this form to smiling. “I don't think so, Soos.”

 

 

**Ford**

 

Ford had spent thirty odd years in alternate dimensions. He'd seen creatures beyond human imagination, dimensions that he still had difficulty explaining, and wonders matched only by horrors that couldn't be comprehended.

 

And nothing had haunted his nightmares more than a small, triangular shaped demon.

 

He was still skittish around triangles, despite knowing Bill was dead. He knew it was true, he'd seen the evidence, seen what had happened to his great-nephew, and yet still...

 

At the moment he was in the remains of his lab under the house, staring sightlessly at the remains of the portal, the creation that was meant to be his greatest success but was instead his greatest failure – though not his greatest shame.

 

He had many things to be ashamed of, but right now, his family was upstairs dealing with his latest shame, trying to fix what he'd done, bandaging his great-nephew as well as they could.

 

It was questionable if it would actually help, but...

 

He should be up there helping, but right now, he doubted any of them would want to see him.

 

“...he's not mad, you know,” a quiet voice said from behind Ford. He stiffened momentarily, still staring at the floor.

 

“He should be,” Ford said, glance shifting to his hands. “I...I hurt him. I saw him and saw Bill and shot him.”

 

Mabel came and sat next to him, leaning a little bit against his side. “No, Great-Uncle Ford, really. Dipper hates how much he looks like Bill in that form. He only uses it when he's too exhausted to stay in any other form. And you're not the only one who's reacted badly to seeing him like that. The most extreme, but not the first. Just...just say you're sorry. He'll understand.”

 

“It's not always that simple, Mabel.”

 

“No...but sometimes it can be.”

 

 

**Henry**

 

Henry thought that, overall, he was handling the whole “my brother-in-law is a demon” thing fairly well. He loved Dipper in a way he'd hardly let himself love others before, save Mabel and Wendy and Uncle Dan and Uncle Tyler. His parents couldn't take this away from him.

 

Still, there was the occasional curve ball.

 

Like the star hovering in the kitchen.

 

“Oh, uh, hey, Henry,” the star said sheepishly, golden light pulsing with each word. “So, uh. This is kind of awkward, huh?”

 

Henry relaxed as the star spoke with Dipper's voice. Already he'd figured out that most things didn't dare try and imitate Dipper.

 

“Uh...yeah, it is,” Henry said as he stared at the star. “Why...?”

 

“So, this kind of happens when I'm low on energy,” Dipper said, one little pipe cleaner arm gesturing as he spoke, though where the words were coming from Henry couldn't say, since Dipper didn't seem to have a mouth at the moment. Still, that little stick arm scratching at the back of the star's uppermost point before starting to gesture little circles in the air was surprisingly adorable. Like something out of a kid's cartoon. “It's bad enough when I get stuck as a twelve year old or in the Mindscape thanks to running out of energy, I haven't figured out yet why I sometimes get stuck as a star instead...”

 

And oh, didn't he sound annoyed at that. If Henry knew anything about Dipper yet, it was how much it chafed at Dipper when he didn't quite understand something.

 

“So, yeah. I'm...I'm a star right now. That's a thing. Yeah,” Dipper finished, tapping his fingers together anxiously. “Guess we kinda forgot to tell you. Sorry. It happens less often now, guess we kinda hoped it would quit.”

 

The kitchen was silent again, a heavy, awkward silence.

 

Then Henry snickered.

 

Dipper whipped around, looking at Henry in disbelief as the man lost his battle, holding his stomach and bracing himself on the counter as he howled.

 

“I...I'm sorry,” Henry choked out between laughs, “but...this? I never...never expected...star. You're a star. Hey now. You're an all star. Get your game on.”

 

“...Augh Henry no it's in my head _it's in my head!”_


	75. The Importance of Editing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh, you wanted the demons exorcised…i thought you said exercised…we’ve been doing yoga for the last week…
> 
> http://marypsue.tumblr.com/post/131156159648/fasterfood-oh-you-wanted-the-demons

 

Rowan looked at the instructions on the email they'd received, then back at the house.

 

This...was the address, but they still had questions over the instructions they'd been given. Unfortunately, as the family was out right now and would be for the rest of the week, they were unlikely to get any. Then again, the family being away was why they were asked to do this now.

 

Rowan had expected more chaos, more fire and brimstone, something to indicate there was a demon infestation in the house, but...it looked like a perfectly normal home. Not a shadow or unholy image to be seen. Sweet monkey fritters, there was even a set of obnoxiously cute statues in the abundant flower beds outside the front of the house.

 

Maybe that was the first test, they supposed. Challenge preconceptions and all that.

 

It didn't change the fact that Rowan had been sent here on a mission. Their very first, honest – to – deity holy mission, even if the details were a little strange. They were going to give it their all anyway!

 

...besides, they wouldn't send a rookie to a really dangerous assignment, right? Even if they were top of their class? That was just overkill.

 

Taking a deep breath Rowan tugged their shirt back into place, feeling like the warriors of old (and wishing it were actual armor and not just a t-shirt, but they dressed to be ready for anything), hiked their bag up more securely on their shoulder, and started up the sidewalk.

 

 

Rowan sank down onto the colorful floral couch in the living room. The parents of the little family had been insistent that there was demonic activity in their house, but...

 

Seriously, this place felt like a magical dead zone.

 

Then again, on the other hand, if there was a demon hanging around, most magical things would avoid the area on principle, wouldn't they? And a smart demon (oh please don't let it be one of the really smart demons, please let it be some low level demon that would cooperate) would know how to cover their tracks, to a point at least, so it would be difficult to tell there was one hanging about.

 

...well, sitting around wasn't going to get this taken care of.

 

Taking a deep breath, Rowan dug out their notes on containment circles and laid one out on the floor, using the circle they'd brought for that purpose. It disassembled into pieces they could screw together, with symbols made the same way. The candles were in holders, a bottle of holy water ready in their pocket, and their other supplies ready.

 

Rowan took another deep breath, reminding themself that they wouldn't have been sent to do this if they weren't capable. Time to do this thing.

 

“...Show yourself, demon!” they demanded. Their presence here was probably irritant enough to get the demon to show up, especially with that irreverent challenge.

 

It worked, as the demon flickered into being, its form coming in like a static-filled picture on an old, old television, something they'd only seen before in horror movies, terrifying and wrong.

 

And then the demon finished forming.

 

Oh crap it was the _Dreambender_ they didn't sign up for the Dreambender crap _crap_ crap...

 

They cleared their throat as the demon hovered, watching them curiously, much like a cat would watch a morsel it hasn't decided it wants to eat yet. He hadn't attacked so far, though, so that was a good thing, right? And he looked amused so far, though that was fading quickly.

 

“All right, Dreambender,” Rowan said, with as much authority as they could muster, “I'm under strict orders to exercise the demon in this house while the family is out! So it's in your best interests to cooperate!”

 

Alcor stared at him blankly. One ear twitched, and Rowan hoped it wasn't a sign he was about to get eaten.

 

Then Alcor cracked up, laughing so hard he folded over in midair – and as he didn't have to breathe, the laughter went on for an uncomfortably long time.

 

Meanwhile Rowan stood in front of the circle, awkward as they hadn't felt in years. The guides had never said what to do if you made the demon laugh. Well, besides run away as fast as possible and hope something distracted them.

 

Finally the laughter died away, ringing echoes lingering as the demon straightened, wiping golden tears away from his eyes.

 

“Oh, wait, you're serious?” the demon asked, blinking a few times. Thrown but determined, Rowan nodded firmly, and Alcor grinned. “Okay, you know what?” he said, his voice sounding almost human, “Fine. It's been ages since I laughed that hard. Bring it. At least you dressed for it, can't waste preparation like that.”

 

“...wait, really? You're just going to...play along?” Rowan said warily. “What's the catch?”

 

“The catch is do it before I change my mind,” the demon said. “Also, I want one of those sports drinks you've stashed in your bag.”

 

“Those are for after the workout,” Rowan said slowly. Alcor shrugged.

 

“Fair enough. But one belongs to me now. So what'd you have planned?”

 

“...honestly? I didn't think I'd get this far,” Rowan said, deciding frankness was like to keep Alcor in this surprisingly good mood longest. “I took lessons on how to lead a yoga class before, though.”

 

Alcor grinned, showing a mouthful of sharp teeth, and snapped his fingers. With a flash the formal wear he'd been sporting was replaced with yoga pants, a plain t-shirt, and tennis shoes, similar to Rowan's own outfit. “Let's do this.”

 

 

Rowan wasn't sure what they'd expected, but Alcor was...playing along surprisingly well. They'd been visiting for almost the whole week now, and Alcor had shown himself for each session, and actually paid attention and did the exercises with Rowan.

 

They still had no clue why they'd been called over here to do this – demons didn't need exercise, so this whole thing was silly.

 

But it had been enjoyable, and Rowan was starting to think Alcor enjoyed it too. As much as a demon could enjoy a human's company. Still, this was Alcor, he was a pretty major outlier when it came to just about everything about demons...

 

 

The explosion, which Rowan had expected from the demon, came after the family returned home from their week away.

 

And it wasn't the demon that was upset.

 

 

“But I followed the instructions I was given!” Rowan protested. The parents still looked furious, though Rowan noticed that the children, teens both and sitting in the background, looked fairly smug.

 

In fact, if Rowan was reading things right here, then those two were just biding their time until they were old enough to get out of here and go very low contact with their parents at best. Possibly even completely no contact. Which would explain quite a few things right now.

 

The extra addition of a highly amused Alcor, gone small in a star shape and hovering up in the corner of the room near the ceiling where he was unlikely to be seen by the parents while exchanging glances with the teens, added credence to the theory.

 

Rowan dug into their bag and pulled out the orders they had been given, showing them to the parents without actually letting them touch the paper. Rowan had a feeling that, should they be given the paper, these two would rip it apart so they could claim there was no evidence that Rowan had been told to exercise Alcor rather than exorcise him, and get Rowan in trouble.

 

Joke was on them – people had been laughing about Rowan's odd mission since they'd received it, assuming it was a joke. Rowan had, too, until their mentor had shrugged and said to treat it seriously, just in case.

 

“I suppose it must have been an error,” they said diplomatically, though the other adults didn't seem inclined to share the sentiment. “I suppose we should be grateful it didn't come out as something even sillier. Incidentally, it seems Alcor like yoga. We've been doing it for the past week. Perhaps you could look into that to keep him appeased.”

 

The woman's mouth pursed tighter at that, and Rowan fought to keep their face straight. Behind their parent's backs, the teens (twins, Rowan was beginning to suspect) had no such scruples and were only just keeping in their laughter.

 

Rowan stood. “I am sorry we were unable to fulfill your request,” they said formally, “But as this is Alcor the Dreambender, I am unable to attempt an exorcism, and I suggest you not attempt with someone else. Exorcisms seem to do little but irritate this particular demon. At this point, your best bet may be to simply hope he loses interest and moves on. Apart from aid in cleaning some of the messes he creates, we are unable to help you. Good day, and good luck.”

 

Rowan tilted their hat at the couple, made brief eye contact with the teens, and beat a hasty retreat before they could do more than begin to protest.

 

 

Rowan refused to think about what they'd done until they were back in their own home. Driving was a difficult enough task for them without adding that distraction, and right now, they had a lot to think about.

 

Given the teens' reactions, Rowan was pretty sure by now that they'd been the ones to change the order from exorcise to exercise. Alcor had seemed far too surprised to have done it...though he was a demon...bah. It didn't matter. The demon had an interest in those kids, but he was in a good period, and there were stories of him being nice to kids. Who knew why, but it looked like that was what was happening now.

 

It had happened, it was over, and they needed to move past it...even if they were going to miss their yoga buddy, just a little. It had always just been for the week. Silly to get attached, and to a demon no less, even if it was the outlier among them all that sometimes claimed to have human friends.

 

 

To say that they were surprised (and yet secretly pleased) when Alcor popped up the next week for a yoga session would be an understatement.

 

 

A year later, and they had come to fully embrace the irony of a priest and a demon being close friends.

 

….It was worth it.

 

Thank god for people who didn't bother to edit their emails.


	76. Don Pines Out and About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feneris on Chapter 30 of ToaD, AO3 ver
> 
> I can just see Hank and Vivi going to a fancy restaurant for a night out together, and being addressed as Don Pines, and getting the top notch service. Top shelf wine, a team of servers waiting on them hand and foot, a private booth, the works. Much to Hank's exasperated embarrassment and Vivi's amusement.

 

Normally, Hank was just as happy going down to the little diner on the corner for food when he and Vivi were too tired to cook as he was going someplace nicer. Happier, sometimes.

 

It reminded him a little of Greasy's, back in Gravity Falls – mostly in the fact that it was small, and welcoming, and hosted everyone regardless of shape or species (so long as the space could handle it, though the owner had made noises about expansions if he could save up the cash so he could host a larger variety).

 

The fact remained that most of the time, Hank and Vivi both enjoyed and often preferred the quick and easy food they got there when they did go out to eat.

 

But tonight was special, and they both wanted to do something a little fancier than normal.

 

So they were off to _The White Diamond_ , the fanciest new restaurant in Portland – and one of the few that was both fine dining and accepted clients of all shapes and sizes.

 

As if they'd visit an establishment that didn't. Maybe Hank was spoiled from living in Gravity Falls, but he wasn't willing to put up with pro-nat crap even indirectly.

 

And, well, after visiting Gravity Falls, and forming the Dinner Crew, any patience Vivi might have had was gone too.

 

Hank had been busy with a sudden influx of freelance work, so he'd asked Lucy Ann if she minded making the reservations. The way he was going, he was forgetting to eat if food wasn't left within arm's reach, so it wasn't as if he was avoiding it, he just didn't want to forget.

 

In retrospect, asking Lucy Ann was probably his first mistake.

 

 

Aunt Pacifica was in Portland, visiting, the weekend of their reservation. Hank had a feeling that she lent them her limo not just to add some class to their evening, but because it highly amused her to have 'Don Pines' traveling by limousine.

 

She was a bit like Mom and Uncle Dipper that way, Hank supposed.

 

Still, he felt pretty fancy pulling up to _The White Diamond_ in his aunt's limo, especially when she'd left it stocked with all sorts of surprises, and he was pretty sure Vivi felt the same.

 

And with Theo babysitting Hazel, they didn't have to worry about hurrying home. Despite everything, people were still more comfortable when they saw a human watching over an apparently human baby, so there wasn't likely to be a frantic phone call this time.

 

 

The weirdness started as they pulled up.

 

There was some kind of commotion as Hank helped Vivi out of the limo (something she only allowed because she was enjoying the atmosphere of it, and because of the heels she was giving a trial run to) among the matre'd at the door, one of which went hurrying off to the back.

 

The pair was escorted to a private booth immediately, which sent a warning tingle down Hank's spine, but he ignored it.

 

Hank thought he heard his name from the group of waiters over by the kitchen, but ignored it in favor of Vivi.

 

Wouldn't be the first time the name got attention. The only question at this point was which one of their reputations caused it.

 

 

“No, you do it!”

 

“I don't have a death wish! You do it!”

 

“Well one of us has to, we can't keep them waiting!”

 

“We'll all do it. Come on, this is _The White Diamond,_ Don Pines is going to expect the best. Let's just get it over with. Bring your A-game and we'll get out of this without anybody going to the hospital. Hurry, before he gets upset about the wait.”

 

 

Hank and Vivi felt like they'd barely been seated before the wait staff began dancing attendance on them. Constant refills on their water, discreet refills of the bread basket, 'Would Monsieur like to see the wine list? _The_ _White Diamond_ would be pleased to offer a free bottle of his choice to Don Pines and his lady' and that was when Hank felt the urge to bury his face in his arms and never look up again.

 

Vivi, on the other hand, was highly amused, though there was that growing fear that she was going to lose her job because everyone thought she was married to a mafia boss hiding behind her eyes.

 

Not that it was going to stop her from doing what they did or loving Hank. It was just a new concern, now that more people were looking at her husband and seeing 'Don Pines' instead of 'Hank Pines, the 'normal' one'.

 

At the moment, though, it was too entertaining to worry for long.

 

That, and neither of them had ever had someone dance attendance on them like this before.

 

When Hank raised his head, Vivi saw the spark in his eye that was pure Pines, and knew he'd decided to roll with it for the evening.

 

Plus, the free bottle of wine was really superb wine.

 

 

In the kitchen, main chef David had locked himself into the storage pantry and was refusing to come out, yelling through the door that if the Don were to dislike his meal, it wasn't going to be him on the line.

 

The newer hires were in a panic while the old hands made note of David's betrayal and got on with things.

 

It wasn't his first tantrum, but it was one they were going to hold against him.

 

So when a waiter came in with the slip, calling out “Got the order for the Don,” the kitchen's reaction was to take a single deep, bracing breath and get to work.

 

 

The waiters brought more bread and a sample of appetizers, “To ease the wait,” and either ignored or didn't hear Hank's exasperated protests against all the freebies.

 

Vivi, for her part, dug in. And after a few more moments and a heartfelt eyeroll, Hank joined her.

 

 

By the time Hank and Vivi were debating dessert, the waitstaff was near to bursting with nerves.

 

“He keeps being so damn nice! I don't know how much more of this I can take!” Carlos whispered, wringing his apron so tightly his fingers were going pale around the fabric.

 

“Keep it together!” Francis hissed, grabbing Carlos by the shoulders. “They just have dessert and coffee left, it's almost over!”

 

Over at the Don's table, _The White Diamond_ 's most experienced waiter was already taking the dessert order, bowing slightly with a click of his heels before heading toward the kitchen.

 

“There, go offer the dessert wine, remind them it's on the house, and see if they want more water or after-dinner coffee. I'm going to go make sure the owner knows what's going on, the manager was supposed to tell him but I think he's done a bunk. Go, go, go!”

 

 

“You know, I think that was one of the nicest dinners we've had in a long time,” Vivi said as she climbed into the back of Pacifica's limo.

 

“I think we just terrified their entire staff,” Hank noted dryly as he joined her, bent in half as he awkwardly climbed into the vehicle.

 

The two stared at each other, barely holding in giggles, before breaking down as the limo pulled away from the restaurant.

 

“...your family is going to be so proud,” Vivi finally choked out. “And they'll never let us hear the end of this.”


	77. A Better Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grunkle Stan giving Henry advice after learning that Henry has also been disowned by his parents.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/133536432254/grunkle-stan-giving-henry-advice-after-learning
> 
> Technically, I went with Henry going no-contact with his parents, but the end result is the same.

 

The babies were far too young to understand about holidays yet, but that didn't mean the Pines weren't celebrating Mother's Day.

 

Which, today, actually pretty much meant giving mommy a _break_ from being a mother, sort of. Mabel, being Mabel, was still cuddling her babies and feeding them and doing everything she always did – except that the men of the household were taking care of her share of the more unpleasant tasks associated with having infants.

 

And there were presents, if small ones, from the men, because while Mabel wasn't their mother, she was _their_ mom, mother to their kids, their niblings, and dang it they were going to take a day to make her feel extra special.

 

Even if some of them (one of them) was going to pretend to grumble about doing it. It didn't fool any of them anymore.

 

 

But after all the presents had been passed out, dinner served and cleaned up, the babies bathed and put to bed (for now) and Mabel was happily knitting away, watching a movie with her brother by her side, Henry slipped outside to the porch.

 

Today was a good day, a very good day, and he'd been so happy, watching Mabel with the babies, being reminded of what his family was now...but it was also reminding him how he hadn't sent his own mother something today.

 

How he hadn't spoken to either parent since the babies were born.

 

And how much of a relief it was, to not have them in his life...and how guilty he felt about that, and how much he hated that guilt. He didn't have a reason to feel guilty, they'd treated him worse than terribly, they didn't deserve to be honored...and yet there were so many things today telling him how he should be honoring his mother, as if just creating him was good enough, as if the years of abuse didn't count.

 

Henry leaned on the railing and stared up at the sky, not really seeing anything he was looking at, just staring blindly as his thoughts rolled over each other.

 

Suddenly a can was thrust in front of his face, and Henry started. Cautiously he took it, attention drawn back to earth, sliding away from the railing and into the couch.

 

Stan lowered himself onto the creaking couch next to Henry, groaning.

 

The older man didn't say anything, seemingly content to busy himself with cracking open his own Pitt and working on lighting his cigar.

 

About halfway through his attempts to light the cigar, Stan seemed to either remember Mabel's lecture on second and third hand smoke around the babies or felt Henry's eyes on the offending object and put the cigar away, acting as though simply fiddling with it had been his idea all along.

 

The two men sat in silence for a time, sipping at their drinks and each lost in his own thoughts.

 

Finally, Stan let out a belch that near rocked the porch, jostling Henry out of his thoughts for a second time and startling a laugh out of him.

 

Stan let out a contented sigh before glancing over at Henry. He sighed again, looking down at his can of Pitt. “It never really gets easier, kid,” he said.

 

“I...what?” Henry said, sitting up properly to look at Stan.

 

For his part, Stan kept his eyes on the can he was holding. “Missing them, or what everyone says they were supposed ta be. Wondering what the hell you did wrong. Wondering what was wrong with you. 'Cuz they're your parents. They're supposed ta love you, an' be there for ya, but when you don't work like they want they just got rid a' ya.”

 

Stan stared at his can for another minute before he drained the last of his can and crushed it. “Well, fuck 'em. It's their loss. We got a better family now, kid.”

 

Henry stared at him for a few seconds before smiling, soft and genuine. Stan returned the smile, and Henry thought it might have been the first time someone besides Mabel and Dipper had looked at him like that.

 

Stan heaved himself out of the couch, patting Henry on the shoulder as he went back inside in a rare display of affection.

 

Henry stayed outside for a few more minutes, looking up at the stars, before he sighed. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “We've got a better family now.”


	78. A Demon and a Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, after enough time has passed, even the least well-written books or least thought out ideas can enter into legend, if they're famous enough.
> 
>  
> 
> Too bad for Dipper, he gets to live long enough to see it. And when his sister is born into a cult that has been influenced by those legends and worships him, things get...awkward.

 

Dipper knew he should check in on his Mizar. He hadn't since she was first born into this lifetime, and he missed her so, so much.

 

No matter what lifetime, Mizar was his rock, his anchor, but he'd learned the hard way that it wasn't fair to that soul to pin everything on them.

 

That was why he'd started seeking out other souls, other connections.

 

And as much as he hated to admit it, well...Mizar didn't need him yet. He needed her, but..he could sense her, through their connection. She was loved, and being cared for...in fact, if his connection said anything, it said that the only danger she was in was of being spoiled. And she was still so young...

 

And, well...he'd promised himself. And he'd promised her. He wasn't going to forget everyone else again and focus just on one soul.

 

Plus...Willow's current incarnation needed him right now. Odd as it was, a demon was the only one on that kid's side at the moment.

 

If things didn't get better soon, he might have to take steps, and that...probably wasn't going to work out well. At least he had experience with making false human identities by this point, so if worst came to worst he could take care of her. Probably not the best, but...better than the way she was living now.

 

He'd also figured out where both Stan and Ford's current lives were (they had reincarnated together again, as siblings, and that soothed something Dipper hadn't realized hurt) and he'd checked in on them a few times already. He was going to wait until they were a little older to introduce himself.

 

Ford seemed like someone who was into the paranormal this lifetime again, so there was that opening...of course, it could also mean Ford would know enough to reject Dipper, and not enough to realize he was trying to be friendly.

 

They were the only ones currently incarnated, though he had a feeling more might be coming soon. Ugh, it was so hard, and to have to try again each lifetime...

 

The point remained, though, that while he wanted to check on Mizar, right now, Antares needed his focus, and Mizar...well, she didn't.

 

He'd regret not paying attention later.

 

 

Dipper was just cleaning up the lunch dishes when he felt the tug of a summons. This one was strong, the kind of tug that an accomplished, knowledgeable set of summoners could create, strong and not something he could just ignore or send to the answering machine unless it was an emergency.

 

That could be a very good thing, or very, very bad.

 

Quickly he poked his head into the living room, where Antares...Pearl...was sitting, playing quietly. He felt some vague regret that it had come to him taking her away, but, well...when the literal _demon_ , albeit the currently trying to be somewhat human demon, was the better choice of parent...

 

He still wondered, at times, how his Mizar was doing, but...raising a kid took nearly all your time, even when you were a dream demon and therefore didn't need an actual job to create money, or to eat, or to sleep. Add in the face that Ford and Stan's reincarnations were just down the road and Pearl had managed to befriend them, so he was keeping an eye on all three, and...well, he did check up on Mizar, with the connection between them, he just hadn't been able to look in on her.

 

She kept radiating pride and well-being, lots of pride actually, and a vague sense that translated to being happy and busy, so he hoped she'd forgive him in the space between lives for not hovering over her in this lifetime.

 

That would all have to wait, though. The call of the summons was getting stronger the longer he put it off, so he called out a quick warning to Pearl, letting her know he was off for a summons, dinner was in the fridge if he wasn't back in time, and waited just long enough for her to respond before he blinked to the source of the summons.

 

 

Over the years, Dipper had been dragged into some odd summonings. In fact, he'd been dragged into some very, very odd summonings.

 

Despite that, he still had a certain image in mind when he felt a summons, especially one as strong as this one. A certain idea of what he should see, what should happen, how everything would unfold.

 

Today, that image was not to be.

 

Instead of a dark warehouse or basement, lit only by sterile florescent lights or the weak, flickering light of candles, Dipper found himself coming into corporeality in a brightly lit room, full of dazzling and colorful light.

 

He was surprised enough to fumble his usual opening, falling silent as he paused to get a better look around.

 

The more he looked around, the more confused and unsettled he was.

 

His circle was carved into an alter, a high piece of black and white marble, and the room...it had high ceilings, and that was where the resemblance to his usual summons ended. The walls were black stone with gold gilt decorations, mainly of stars or highlighting the lines of carvings, all polished to a high gleam.

 

Stained glass windows behind the alter and along the wall threw colored light, like a careless scattering of jewels tossed across black velvet, over the room and everyone inside.

 

There were people seated in pews, actual darkly stained wooden pews that lined an aisle carpeted in dark gold, all of them dressed as if for church.

 

In heavy vases along the walls, an abundance of flowers lent the air a heavy, thick scent. Spaced between them along the walls were heavy white candles, their holders shoulder high and the candles wrist thick, their light glittering off the gold of the vases and the walls. Swags of cloth draped along the pews and walls, gold and white, all of the building decorated as if for some holy event, but in Alcor's colors, blacks and golds with highlights of white.

 

It was all the people inside that kept Dipper from openly looking up to see what the window behind him, the largest of them all, displayed, from being quite as open about his gaping and confusion as he wanted to be, though the shapes of the colored light on the floor gave him a bad feeling that it was his symbol up there, in the stained glass of the window.

 

Professionalism and pride clamored not to let anyone see when he was thrown. Even in a case like this, when he was very, very thrown, not only by the building that appeared, to all intents and purposes, to be a church dedicated to him, though not one of the Circle of the Dreamer's Star, whose worship he was becoming more accepting of, but also by the air of anticipation that hovered over the crowd.

 

Instead, he slowly turned and directed a glare onto the robed man standing at the top of the shallow stairs at the front of the room, the man standing in front of the alter that Dipper now saw had Dipper's symbol inlaid on the front in gold and draped with something thick and rich, his circle inlaid onto the top and blood staining the grooves.

 

The man (priest? Cult leader? Dipper wasn't sure, but this certainly looked intensely religious, and the fact that they'd summoned a demon didn't make him any less cautious about what they might be planning. Religious folk had tried to summon a demon to 'purify' it before, after all. They just usually left Dipper alone, as he was ridiculously overpowered and generally considered best left alone – and he wasn't going to take the fact that this appeared to be dedicated to him at face value) looked taken aback for a brief moment at Dipper's irritation but Dipper was impressed by how quickly he rallied.

 

Apparently, he'd prepped himself for the demon wanting to know what the hell was going on, because once that moment was over, his face broke out into a huge, joyous smile.

 

Dipper was instantly even more suspicious.

 

“Our great lord Alcor! Long have we awaited this joyous day, and great is our honor to bear witness to it!”

 

Idly, Dipper wondered if there was some kind of script cult leaders were given alongside the summoning circles. If they were respectful at all, they all seemed to talk the same way...

 

“Eighteen glorious years ago, we were blessed to have born to us Mizar, the Gleeful, the Merciful, the Free. We have been honored all these years to raise her with love and pride and to prepare her for this day. Today, Mizar is ready to be returned to her Alcor. We gather here as witnesses to this solemn moment, when the Twin Stars are reunited, to once again glow as one, guiding lights to us all.”

 

Dipper was seriously freaked out by this point, but he kept his face as impassive as he could. So this was where his Mizar was? Or was it someone else who was pretending to be...no, a gentle probe told him that his Mizar was here, she was just outside waiting for her signal to enter, and he wasn't sure that was much better.

 

...if they were going to sacrifice Mizar to him then this place wasn't going to stay pretty for long. That wasn't quite the vibe he was getting from them, but it was still a plain fact that it was a possibility.

 

What the hell kind of cult was this? Dipper was getting serious Jonestown vibes from all of these people, and that was even with him having mostly come to terms with the idea of someone worshiping him. Bad enough when they got over-zealous about sacrificing things to him...

 

But this...this was a full fledged church, and although there was some of the warmth he got from the still (thankfully) small Circle of the Dreamer's Star, there was still a good deal more of a fanatical vibe. There was no way they could just haul around an altar like that from place to place, or have a building like this, and not be obvious about what they were doing, so this had to be some sort of compound, someplace really dedicated to this...

 

But...despite the fact that the whole thing felt weird, there wasn't anything...wrong? Just a lot of people looking at him? In a really odd way? Like they were really glad to see him, which was really weird in and of itself, and he got a general feeling of anticipation. Anticipation was normal at a summoning, but this was...eager? Positive? Joyful? Like they didn't expect this to end in blood and tears?

 

...he'd never been to a summons before where everyone was sitting in nice clothing in pews like they were waiting for a sermon or something. This whole setup was creepy, and this was a demon saying that.

 

Was he...supposed to be saying something? Everyone was waiting, but...what was even going on?

 

Why hadn't he been paying more attention?

 

Okay, stay calm, Dipper told himself. Maybe this was just something like the Circle and he was just being paranoid over nothing. They just wanted to present Mizar to him, right? That was a good thing, he missed her, and if they knew she was Mizar and were this into it then they wouldn't have to sneak around about meeting each other, and she probably wasn't going to freak out about the whole demon brother bit. This could be a good thing, right?

 

Music swelled, cutting through Dipper's frantic thoughts, and Dipper felt his heart drop to his shoes. Oh please, please, let that song he heard not be what he thought it was...

 

Doors opened at the back of the hall, and Dipper took a deep breath he didn't technically need before he turned to see if it was as bad as he thought.

 

And as soon as he'd gotten a good look, he started silently cursing in every language he knew even as the rest of him blue screened.

 

Because walking down the aisle, in full western bridal garb, from elaborate white dress to trailing veil draped longer than the dress' train to sparkling tiara to huge, cascading bouquet, was his sister.

 

_His. Sister._

 

Okay so not maybe his blood sister now but the soul was hers and it was the same as being a sibling to him.

 

Dipper gave a full body shudder, even his hair poofing, and he had to bite back the urge to puke.

 

This was not good.

 

He wasn't trying to feel his Mizar, but he could feel her emotions all the way from the front despite actively blocking her, they were so strong. Pride, and joy, and a good deal of nerves, and oh crap this was her  _wedding day_ they honestly bought all that Twin Souls eternal bond crap as meaning wife and not sister and this was a  _wedding_ his sister's  _wedding day_ and oh this was going to be messy.

 

The time Dipper's brain had needed to reboot had apparently been enough for Mizar to make it to the front of the church (and oh, this was why he'd never gotten a sense of another name from her, Dipper realized in a flash – they must had dropped her birth name as soon as they'd realized whose soul she had and referred to her just as 'Mizar' ever since) and it seemed most of his dismay hadn't shown on his face, as everyone save the 'groom' was still beaming.

 

Mizar stopped at his side, and she was short this life, short enough she had to tilt her head back to look into his face (though that was, admittedly, at least partially because he was still floating) and she gave him a look of such love and longing that Dipper really did want to be sick. His sister should never, ever look at him like that.

 

“Okay, hold up,” he said as the priest began to speak. “I get what's going on here now. And you've all got the wrong idea. Um. Sorry. But I can't marry Mizar.”

 

“But...but why?” the priest cried into the stunned silence Dipper's declaration had caused. “She has studied and trained for this all her life. She is ready to give herself to you, body and soul, as is only proper for the mate of a demon of your power and status, the only one who has ever taken a mate! She is your Mizar, surely you cannot deny her this renewal of your bond!”

 

The protests and dismayed exclamations began almost before the last word had left the priest's mouth, the congregation agreeing with him and begging Dipper to reconsider, questioning why he would refuse Mizar. 

 

If it had been anyone else they'd been trying to foist off on Dipper he might have just left, or given some short, pithy lecture about marrying  _demons_ , made a joke or snarled them into silence, but this was Mizar, his Mizar, and she looked so stricken, waves of despair and heartbreak almost visible, strong enough to make even his heart ache, that he had to say or do something before she did something drastic. Who cared about anyone else, his Mizar was hurting.

 

“Mizar, you're my _sister_ ,” he said, his voice cutting over the risen voices around them as he spoke directly to her, catching the tear-filled eyes with his, ignoring everyone else. “I know it's not blood, but the relationship is the same to me. I don't know where anyone got the idea for all...all this,” he gestured around them at the church, the altar, the dress and all the trappings, “...well okay I kind of have an idea where they got the idea but we've always been siblings. I get how much this means to you, but we're not getting married. Ever. I...I'm sorry, but no.”

 

Mizar's eyes never left his face throughout Dipper's explanation, silently (and, it seemed, automatically, thoughtlessly) accepting the handkerchief he pulled out his jacket pocket to dry the tears overflowing from her eyes.

 

“You...don't want me?” she said when Dipper paused, searching for the words.

 

Dipper flailed for a few seconds in the face of her pain before lunging, grabbing up his Mizar in a tight, desperate hug. In her surprise, she dropped the bouquet, and slowly her arms came up to return the hug as he spoke. “I love you. You're my Mizar, and I always want to be near you,” he said, suddenly as choked as she, “but not like this. Sister, not wife. But I already love you so, so much.”

 

“But the wedding!” the priest cried out in protest. “The binding! It must be renewed! 'Tis not the first time someone has been both sister and wife!”

 

Dipper bit back a snarl by sheer effort, pulling back from the hug reluctantly, one hand stubbornly remaining on Mizar's shoulder even as she scooped up her bouquet and wiped her face again with his handkerchief, calmer now that she was assured of his love, even if it was a different type of love than she'd been expecting. If anything, Dipper thought he felt relief coming from her, not as strong as the pride and joy as before and with a strong overtone of guilt, but relief all the same. 

 

_Human_ , he reminded himself.  _Not completely demon. You can handle this._ “The bond between myself and Mizar is renewed each time we meet in a new lifetime and get to know each other,” he said sharply. “Not because of ceremonies. And I'm not marrying my  _sister!_ ”

 

“But the ancient legends all say...” the priest continued to protest, and beside Dipper Mizar was radiating nerves and vague fears, though they were directed at the priest and his retribution for this ceremony gone wrong and of what Dipper might do to him, if he was feeling her correctly.

 

It was hard to tell, especially when he hadn't been human for so long and the emotions were all muddled together.

 

“The ancient legends are wrong,” Dipper snapped. “Are you seriously going to argue this with _me?_ With Alcor himself? I know the bond between myself and Mizar in ways mortals could never comprehend!”

 

The priest continued to sputter, and Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose. It was physically impossible for him to get a headache, he reminded himself. There was no reason for it to feel like he was getting one now.

 

“If you keep talking about me and my sister doing...having...ugh. Having sex,” Dipper ground out the word, “Then I'm going to be sick. Demonic puke is a pain to clean up, you don't want to deal with that. This is a nice carpet.” He sighed again, deciding to keep playing along for Mizar's sake and so, so grateful he was in one of his saner periods right now.

 

“Look, everyone,” he said, turning to face the audience, who'd sat in stunned silence since the first protests, “You've got a party all ready. Go celebrate. It's not a wedding, but you still did it. We're reunited. So go celebrate that. I want to talk with my sister for a bit. We've got a lot of catching up to do.”

 

Mizar grinned, wiping away the last of her tears. With a whoop, she suddenly spun and pitched the bouquet over her shoulder into the crowd.

 

And suddenly, despite how this meeting had gone down, Dipper suddenly had a good feeling about this incarnation.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reference to priest makes about how Mizar & Alcor could be siblings and spouses refers to more than one instance of it in older gods, such as Greek or Egyptian.
> 
> This was an idea I had a good while back that I finally wrote out.


	79. And Bear-O Is His Name-O

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thousands of years later, one of Mabel's reincarnations accidentally gets into their guard's notes and summons Alcor the Dreambender. It coincides with the return of Bear-O as a historical educational doll. The guard returns to see Alcor shrieking like a smol child while their tot cackles.
> 
> We are forever here for Dipper the big scary demon screaming like a smol bby
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/138241564923/thousands-of-years-later-one-of-mabels

 

 

Sometimes, it seemed like everything went in cycles. Names, traditions, media tropes, fashion – everything, all the way down to toys.

 

And lately, it was the no-tech toys that were all the rage. No electronics, no magic, just cloth or rubber or plastic, toys that the kids had to do all the work with. Historical toys from yesteryear.

 

The year, _the_ toy to have was one that no adult really understood, one that had already had protests made over it, but that kids seemed to go mad for – or because of. It was a bit hard to tell over all the crying, sometimes. About half loved it, and the other half ran in terror.

 

Bear-O.

 

Even the creator, who had designed the bear from historical records and faded photographs, didn't understand how his creation had gotten so popular, though he enjoyed the money that came in even if he didn't enjoy the scandal.

 

He'd intended the toy as a historical prop, a way to help kids connect to how things used to be, how terrifying the supernatural could be, complete with short books and hints for making the toy look like it was talking, and the kids had latched onto it fiercely.

 

Bear-O, with his ratty coveralls, his one snaggle tooth, his walleyes, was popular despite all the adults protesting that it would give their children nightmares, despite (or maybe because of) their reluctant admittance that it gave the adults nightmares.

 

Some kids even chose Bear-O to keep the nightmares away on the basis that he was scarier than most of their nightmares.

 

It made as much logic as anything else.

 

 

Dezu was privately in the 'this doll is fucking creepy' camp, but their charge absolutely loved the thing.

 

They'd find it on their desk, in their bed, at the table, with the little girl hiding nearby to enjoy their startle. But other than the little pranks, the doll never left her side. Ever.

 

With all the restrictions they and their charge had to deal with, it was hard to be mad about it. At least the child was able to act like a kid she was once in awhile.

 

 

Dezu's charge, Serenity, was in their company more often than in her parents'. Part of them understood – it was a dangerous world out there right now, with everything so unstable, like to explode at any moment, and as a gargoyle, their instinct to protect would be stronger the tighter the bond between them and Serenity was – but another part sometimes wanted to go up to the girl's parents and shake them.

 

Not that it would do any good. Serenity's parents were too busy trying to discover what would give them and their followers the power to counteract the downward spiral the world was taking.

 

Dezu wanted to argue that it wasn't that bad, but, as a nonhuman, well...the cycle was swinging back towards high intolerance to anyone that was different, so it was hard to disagree. Even if they weren't sure they always approved of the methods that were being used.

 

The resurgence of 'historical' toys, they rather suspected, was because of that downward trend and a general fear that those skills would be necessary again, and soon.

 

 

Dezu's job, besides being general caretaker and guardian of Serenity, was to do research for her employers.

 

Despite a build that could lift cars with ease and claw tipped hands, wings that stood tall and proud behind them, four short, stubby horns set over their brow, and a thick tail studded with spikes that tended to drag on the floor behind them, Dezu preferred the research to using their hands to work, though they did not disdain such activities – just the assumptions that they would.

 

At the moment, their research was mostly into demons and their ilk. The ones that were considered 'safe' – for a given value of 'safe' – were generally too weak to be of much help, and the more powerful were too into their own interests and too dangerous to call upon without strict wards and bindings, which didn't always help matters.

 

Their best bet almost seemed to be Alcor, in terms of power and personality, but he was...erratic, sometimes almost human, others so demonic, that it seemed safest to see what other options were available first.

 

Plus, he was impossible to bind and always did his own will, which would be...frustrating, for people like Dezu's employers, who wanted someone who would obey, who would do as they were told.

 

Privately, Dezu thought it would serve them right to have to deal with someone as willful as Alcor, since what they wanted was, at the end of the day, basically a slave, and Dezu had more than a few problems with that, but, well...

 

They'd just have to do more research into it, first. They weren't quite ready to take a stand by summoning something they couldn't control to make a point.

 

They also had a feeling Alcor, the demon who was no one's slave, would be the only one who matched all their employer's other requirements.

 

Until they were sure of that, they'd just keep researching.

 

 

It was that magical time of day between dinner and bath time when Serenity was free to play while Dezu did their research.

 

They were deep in researching their latest possibility when they realized just how quiet it had gotten. And long experience said that, around Serenity, quiet was a bad thing.

 

A Very Bad Thing.

 

Dezu put the paperweight on their work (even in worry, they couldn't bring themself to just leave it – protective instincts too strong to not do something, no matter how small, to protect their work) and stood up, hurrying to the room Serenity was supposed to be playing in.

 

It was empty.

 

Protective instincts screaming, Dezu rushed through the hallway as quickly as possible, which wasn't as fast as they liked as they were made of stone, even if it was living stone and moved faster than most without experience with gargoyles would expect.

 

Their hearing was more acute than a human's, so they heard Serenity long before a human would have, and picked up their pace as much as they could when they realized where her voice was coming from.

 

The second office, where Dezu kept the research they weren't currently using on demons, the one that was meant to be locked but must have been left open.

 

And Serenity's voice had the cadence of someone reciting poetry – or a summons.

 

But even at their fastest, Dezu knew they wouldn't be fast enough. The only question now was if the demon would answer with no sacrifice or proper circle, only a summons chanted in a child's voice.

 

A hope that was proved futile as they heard a voice with demonic echo begin to speak as they reached the door.

 

“Mizar! I'm so glad to ...O̷H ͢MY̶ GO̡Ḑ N̡O̸ N̡O̸ N̡O̸ GET҉ ͝ĮT̛ AWA̛Y NO AAA̛A̕AA̸A _AAA̵ÁAA̡ĄGH!_ ”

 

Truly panicking now, Dezu threw open the door, claws and teeth bared for the little good it would do against a demon.

 

And promptly found themself with an armful of terrified demon as it launched itself at them. Claws scraped against stone as the Dreambender scrambled over their shoulder onto their back, and they could feel the demon perching between their wings, hissing quietly and just barely peeking over their shoulder as he hid behind them.

 

In front of them, Serenity giggled and held up her beloved Bear-O, and on their back the demon cowered, shaking and making a noise eerily similar to a whine.

 

Well. This was not what they'd expected to deal with today.

 

Or ever.

 

 

An hour later, and Dezu was beginning to think they might have a permanent demon attachment. Alcor was still clinging to their back, as if trusting them to protect him from Serenity's toy, and they got the feeling he was quite comfortable back there.

 

At least he wasn't heavy. In fact, Dezu barely felt the weight.

 

Serenity, for her part, still seemed to find Alcor's terror of her Bear-O to be hilarious, and kept trying to touch him with it. Each attempt lead to more screams on Alcor's part and scrambling over and around Dezu to keep away from the toy, up to and including perching on their shoulders, though he kept returning to his hiding spot between their wings.

 

Personally, Dezu was on Alcor's side at the moment. That doll was the creepiest thing they'd ever seen, and that was even with a demon in the room. Though why a children's toy was terrifying the strongest demon in the world...

 

They needed answers, and while this was amusing, they weren't getting any while Alcor was clinging to them like a terrified cat.

 

Or maybe...

 

“Serenity, honey? Can you take Bear-O and wait in the other room for a minute?”

 

Serenity pouted, but obeyed, well knowing by now that the tone Dezu was using only came out when they meant business – and often lead to better plans and more entertainment than whatever she'd been doing.

 

“Thank you thank you thank you where did she even get that thing? I burned it! Centuries ago! Why is it baaaack?” Alcor whined, his grip still tight on Dezu's shoulders, face buried between their wings, and they weren't sure if that was terrifying or a compliment, that he would hide behind them like this.

 

“Historical recreation toy,” they answered shortly, reaching behind themself and groping. After a second they hit on the back of Alcor's jacket and, hoping they weren't about to commit death by demon, pulled him off their back and shifting their grip to turn him around to look at them, dangling in their grip like a kitten. “Now, answer me – what's going on?”

 

Alcor tilted his head, looking more like a kitten than ever, and considered Dezu for a few moments before apparently deciding the protection they'd offered from Bear-O was worth getting straight to the answer. “She's Mizar, and she called me. So I answered. I'll always answer when Mizar calls. But she had that...ugh. I destroyed that thing! Why would they start making them again?”

 

“...Mizar...” Dezu whispered in shock, releasing Alcor.

 

The demon floated a few steps away, brushing off and straightening his tailcoat. He looked at Dezu out of the corner of his eye, judging their reaction as he fixed the cuffs, pretending indifference, much like the cat they'd already thought he resembled.

 

“Yep. She's Mizar. And you're not getting rid of me now that she's called me. But we do need to get rid of that,” he shuddered, “Bear-O replica. Got any ideas?”

 

Dezu stared at him in disbelief and growing glee.

 

Her employers wanted a demon? They just got one, the most willful of them all. One they couldn't get rid of, that was going to do exactly what he wanted, when he wanted, and would only listen to their daughter. One who was already willing to be in cahoots with Serenity's guardian.

 

And hey, with a demon brother, maybe Serenity would be tempted to get rid of the toy that creeped out her guardian.

 

Or she'd keep it closer since now she could creep out both guardian and brother with it. Either or, really, with Serenity.

 

No matter what happened, life just got a whole lot more interesting around here.


	80. Rub a Dub Dub, Demon in a Tub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alcor, what is the most ill-timed summons you've ever gotten?
> 
> A really powerful summons pulled me right out of a bath once. The sacrifice was elaborate and surprisingly tasteful as far as those things go, but it was hard to appreciate given the timing.
> 
> http://tau-cast.tumblr.com/post/135329526318/alcor-what-is-the-most-ill-timed-summons-youve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, I'm not feeling well today, so I didn't edit this as thoroughly as I prefer. But I wanted a lighter story this week.

 

When he was human, it was about as easy to bathe a cat as it was to get Dipper to shower.

 

Not that his family didn't try. Many times. Including the time Grunkle Stan got him with the hose.

 

Dipper just...didn't see the point in wasting time in the shower when he could be doing just about anything else.

 

Even if it did sometimes lead to him being a bit...potent.

 

Then, around the time he had to shower for Mabel, to take the abuse he put her body through during possessions so she didn't have to suffer more, a generous giving of time and physicality from his sister to allow him that much more time in a physical body, to feel 'normal', while he did his best to keep her from pain, he finally realized just how relaxing baths and showers could be.

 

And it wasn't like he had a lack of time anymore. So why not spend a few hours just lounging in hot water?

 

 

After the blowout (if he could call it that...more like scolding with a promise of exactly what would happen if he kept doing it) with Henry about using all the Shack's hot water, Dipper started using a touch of his own power to heat the water so they wouldn't run out. Yes, it usually turned the water too hot for a human to touch – his power wasn't very good for the delicate things – but Dipper could comfortably bathe in lava if he wanted to at this point.

 

Which was actually rather pleasant, and it freaked out mortals nicely (those who weren't in the know about him, who instead would just shake their heads or roll their eyes at his theatrics) but...you couldn't have a bubble bath in lava. And it melted the rubber duck.

 

Making the duck lava-proof just wasn't the same.

 

 

The point remained, now that bathing wasn't a necessity, it was as much a luxury as eating and touch were. And after a week of dealing with the latest set of great-grand-niblings (he loved them, he did. They were great kids, just...tiring. Add in that at this point, all the kids in the Pleidies, and their kids, foster and adopted and blood, counted as niblings), well, Uncle Dipper was stretched a little thin.

 

So he sank back into the tub with a little sigh. The water was nice and hot, the bubbles almost higher than his head, and he'd dug out a little rubber duck from the depths of his hat (and he still didn't know how it had gotten in there but eh, at least he'd found it and it seemed relatively normal still).

 

Taking a sip from his glass of wine – if being friends with Pacifica had taught him anything, it had been to appreciate wine, even if he did tend to mix in a little extra red – he finally felt able to relax for the first time in a month.

 

Closing his eyes, Dipper sank a little deeper into the water and hummed along to the music he'd turned on for ambiance.

 

Suddenly there was a pull, an insistent tugging from behind his navel, and a startling lack of warm water and bubbles.

 

Dipper's eyes flew open as he felt a breeze, and a huge terrycloth robe manifested around him without conscious thought, muffling the still wet, and naked, shit he was naked and still holding the wine what even was his life, demon from eyes to toes.

 

“Ẁh̡at ̶i̷s͞ g҉oing o͞n̡?̸!̧” he screeched, darting upright. His hair, still wet, flipped into his eyes and he shoved it out of his face impatiently.

 

Water dripped down onto the circle he was hovering over, bubbles sliding from his legs and dripping over his bare toes and mixing with the blood that was caught in a golden bowl placed in the center.

 

If it weren't for the water and bubbles now floating in the suddenly watered down blood, the whole thing would have been tasteful, really. For a demon summoning. Nothing gaudy, nothing overblown, unscented candles and clean white chalk...and a demon faintly scented of raspberry bubble bath huddling in a huge terrycloth robe, wondering just what anyone had seen and slowly dripping water.

 

“Um...was this...a bad time?” one of summoners finally asked.

 

“...gee, you think?” Dipper said, wrapping his robe a little more tightly. “Nice sacrifice, very tasteful, so I tell you what, just put a drop of blood on this,” he gestured to the circle below him, “and I'll be back. Try in, like, an hour. Oh, and you didn't see anything,” he added, glaring at the people in front of him. “Got it? You saw nothing. That's part of the deal. Right. Alcor out.”

 

He disappeared with a little pop of bubbles, leaving the summoners confused and a little disturbed.

 

“...I saw way more than I wanted to,” one of them finally spoke up. “Way more.”

 

“At least it wasn't frontal,” another commented, to general agreement.

 

There were some things no mortal mind wanted to contemplate, and naked demons were one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note they didn’t actually see anything beyond the fact that he was naked for about .5 - 1 second. Feel I need to clarify that. :)


	81. Attack on Aggie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction to Aggie and her family: http://archiveofourown.org/works/2709113/chapters/13169767
> 
>  
> 
> Short reminder for those who've forgotten: Alcor was summoned to be bound as Aggie's (Agatha's) protector, as her parents are powerful preturnatural-rights leaders. Recognizing Soos' soul, Alcor makes up his own contract instead, to protect a friend in their new life.
> 
>  
> 
> And now, it seems that summoning Alcor may have been the right thing to do.
> 
> WARNINGS FOR VIOLENCE IN THIS CHAPTER

 

 

When Richard and Tabitha Mendis had requested their security detail find something, anything, even a demon if they had to, to protect their daughter, they hadn't thought they'd be taken literally.

 

Except they had, and now they had to deal with the fact that their daughter had a literal demon hovering over her.

 

Being natural optimists, they did manage to find a few bright sides. Alcor the Dreambender had a soft spot for kids, despite all his efforts to hide it, and the contract he'd written up did state quite clearly that Aggie would always be safe from him as well as being kept safe by him. And they always had a babysitter, no matter how spur of the moment the need was.

 

Getting used to having Alcor hanging around was a different matter.

 

Thankfully for their state of mind, the demon had other children he was keeping an eye on, so he wasn't with their daughter at all times. Elusive about what other children he was watching, yes, but it gave them a little break, time to spend with their daughter without a demon overhead.

 

Though it was still unnerving to find their daughter painting the demon's claws, or brushing his hair, or a dozen other childish games that they never would have believed a demon would have the patience for.

 

And finding the most powerful demon in the world patiently letting Aggie put all of her favorite glittery plastic clips in his hair or give him a 'makeover' was likely to always be just a bit unsettling.

 

The original summoning had meant to bind a demon to protect Agatha, though by now they'd all realized just how lucky they were that it had been Alcor they had called, that he had been charmed by Aggie, had agreed to protect her his way, without a binding. The protective and almost loving friendship between human and demon, amazingly enough likely to be real (Alcor was known to sometimes be odd that way) was a more sure bet of his protection than any binding could ever have been.

 

The threats that had prompted their action kept coming in, though they'd remained just threats for a very long time, long enough that the rest of the security detail had begun to wonder if maybe, just maybe, they had overreacted a bit by calling up a demon.

 

But still, the threats were serious enough (and both Aggie and Alcor attached enough) no one even considered trying to negate the contract.

 

Besides, but this point, well...demon or not, they trusted him with their daughter.

 

They just hoped and prayed that playing with their little girl, being her friend, was the only part of the contract the demon would have to fulfill.

 

 

Their prayers wouldn't be answered.

 

 

Dipper was hovering over Mizar and Sarva (unseen by their big sister, a reincarnation of Wendy, and it was so damn hard to wait to introduce himself he just wanted to burst onto their plane and give them all a huge hug, all three of them) when he felt the first panic from Aggie, who _should_ have been asleep and peacefully dreaming but that wasn't nightmare panic he felt, and Aggie was never scared of anything, not even him, and he was out of that room so fast the sister actually raised her head and looked around, feeling some kind of faint disturbance.

 

He hit Aggie's room in time to see two grown adults dragging her out of bed and reacted without thinking, throwing them both across the room and planting himself between child and attackers.

 

Aggie's attackers cursed as Dipper snarled, fangs and claws bared and ready, wings spread wide and sheltering Aggie behind them.

 

The attackers, whoever they were, had come prepared for demon, and Dipper could feel the wards they bore, the holy water flasks glowing to his eye, but they wouldn't slow him down for long and they all knew it.

 

Well, possibly not Aggie, but all the adults in the room did, had recognized him almost immediately, and that was what was important.

 

The standoff was tense, and faintly Dipper could hear more attackers outside, in other rooms, and hoped that the security detail would be able to take care of those because right now he had Aggie here and she was a wild card, one he had to keep safe at all costs, and he didn't want her to see if he was forced to kill these people.

 

He wanted to keep her away from blood and death as long as possible, and damn these people for bringing it here, to her, into this house.

 

Finally one of them cursed again, soft and creative, and Dipper tsked.

 

“Language,” he scolded, “There's a child – ” his taunting scold was cut off as the curser flung something at him, a partially open circle, and he choked as it clicked around his throat.

 

Aggie screamed, the sound piercing but still dulled to Dipper's ears, as if coming to him through water.

 

He fell to his knees and it felt as though he were moving through cotton wool, all his senses dulled, the collar a bright, burning band around his neck.

 

Through the sludge that was covering his mind, answers struggled to the surface, bubbles fighting their way up through syrup.

 

Celestial Collar. A portable binding circle. Incredibly powerful magical relic. Unicorn hair. Blessed Silver. Sigils and charms engraved and filled with powders of cleansing herbs made into paint. Wouldn't hold him for long, if he concentrated and fought it off.

 

Would hold him for long enough if he didn't hurry.

 

Long enough to take Agatha, to find a better binding, for everything to go utterly wrong.

 

 

Aggie's scream, terrified and in pain, sliced through the blanket the collar had thrown over his senses like a thrown knife, and the surge of protective panic flared through Dipper like lightning.

 

The collar cracked with lines of blue fire, then shattered into a dozen pieces, and the hooded figure that had been trying to drag Aggie away (she was fighting like a small demon herself, the way her security detail and her demon big brother had taught her to fight) dropped the little girl in shock before being taken down by a raging ball of claws, teeth, and protective instincts.

 

Aggie was still crying when Dipper was done, though it had died down to whimpers, and he was proud to see that she had armed herself with a bat while he was...occupied, and put her back to the corner of the room, the way she'd been taught.

 

The other attempted kidnappers had fled, leaving them behind.

 

Dipper turned to comfort Aggie and she sniffled, trying to be brave. “Where's mommy and daddy?” she asked, and Dipper paused. “Alcor, where are they?”

 

Look inside and out, see things in a way no human could. Feel through walls and doors, see two lives, not as precious to him as the little one standing in front of him but precious to her so precious to him, feel _pain fear pain terror anger fear rage_ , two parents afraid for their lives, afraid for their child, feel his own rage rising.

 

He couldn't leave Aggie, they might come back...but he couldn't take her with him, either.

 

He hesitated and felt the pain from below rise and knew he'd run out of time.

 

Without thinking of consequences, Dipper grabbed Aggie and blipped, out of the compound, out of the country, to where Mizar and Sarva slept still, with their big sister doing her homework on the desk by their crib.

 

He dropped Aggie into the startled pre-teen's arms with a frantic, “Just watch over her I'll explain everything later I promise,” and blipped back to the compound, knowing Aggie would be safe there, if incredibly confused, a confusion that would be eclipsed by Wendy's latest incarnation's bafflement.

 

It couldn't be helped at the moment, and he'd promised to explain. And he would. Later.

 

For now, he was ripping into reality in fire and claw and fang, knowing full well that none of the attackers could escape, for if they did they would spread word about how the Mendis family had a demonic bodyguard, and Dipper didn't need his omniscience to know several ways that could go very, very badly.

 

There were two men holding each Mendis when he tore into the room, and more people around the room, all armed with weapons both mundane and magical.

 

The pain Dipper sensed came from Tabitha Mendis, and it was her blood he smelled, and if he'd been angered before now he was enraged, and the woman standing over Tabitha, holding a knife coated in her blood, was the first to suffer that rage.

 

The two holding Richard scrambled for their knives, one of Tabitha's captors holding a knife to her neck as the woman Dipper had attacked fell.

 

“Wait!” the man cried, holding the knife far too close to Tabitha's neck. “We can negoti-”

 

The knife of flame took him through the forehead before he could finish his sentence, the demonic blade cutting through bone slick and clean, and he dropped to the floor mid word.

 

The few seconds of started silence were enough for Dipper to summon his cane from the ether and pull the sword from inside, demonic flames dancing along the blade, and swing it with inhuman strength at the people holding Tabitha and Richard, parents to his Aggie, his friends in their own right, and send their heads toppling.

 

The others fled and Dipper gave chase, leaving the Mendis couple heaving on the floor but safe.

 

 

Dipper looked over the last of the attackers coldly, flicking his sword to get rid of the worst of the blood while the blue flames still flickering across its surface took care of the rest.

 

The security detail had taken care of a good deal of the attackers before Dipper had gotten there, they'd simply been overwhelmed by spells, sneak attacks, and sheer numbers, if the afterimages of spellwork and emotion Dipper was sensing were to be believed, which was how the attackers had gotten to the Mendis parents.

 

They were rallying now, breaking free of the rooms they'd been locked in, and didn't need Dipper's help. Who knew, they might have managed to get free soon on their own...but Dipper didn't want to think about what might have happened to Aggie in the meantime.

 

Dipper moved to blip back to the Mendis pair when he paused, looked down at himself, covered in blood, and winced.

 

The fastidious part of him was disgusted with how he looked, but while normally he'd leave it to lick off later...humans didn't react well to this much blood. With a silent wince at the waste, Dipper cleaned up with a thought, and snapped his fingers.

 

A portal to his part of the Mindscape opened, and Darcrack poked his head through the small hole.

 

“Tell the others there's blood and flesh to be had here,” Dipper ordered. “I'd like this place as cleaned as they can. But take at least one body back to the pastures for me.”

 

Darcrack nodded and disappeared back into the Mindscape, emerging moments later with several other Nightmares in tow.

 

Dipper nodded in satisfaction and blipped back to where he'd left Tabitha and Richard.

 

 

They were standing now, and covered in blood, but they looked relatively unharmed, all things considered.

 

They both jumped when Dipper blipped into existence in front of them. “...you two okay?” he asked, looking between them cautiously, knowing his ears were tilting back guiltily and trying to make them stop unsuccessfully.

 

“Nothing a few rounds of therapy and some band-aids won't fix,” Richard managed to joke, less uncomfortable around the demon than before. “Where's Aggie?”

 

“Safe,” Dipper answered shortly. “I took her someplace safe until everything was settled here. I'll...probably be paying for that later. Nothing you need to worry about.”

 

“...you left her with somebody without warning them, didn't you,” Tabitha said, and there was an edge of hysteria to her voice, that said clearly that she dearly wanted to yell at the demon, demand to know where her daughter was, if only in lieu of a more acceptable target of her adrenaline crash.

 

“...maybe?” Dipper said. “But she's safe, I promise. I'd know if she wasn't. It's...how I knew you needed me. What happened here?”

 

The trio made their way down the hall towards the medical wing as Richard spoke, Dipper trailing behind the humans, unsure if he should offer help when they limped and leaned on each other for support. They were growing more used to him, but that was a bit further than he suspected they were comfortable with yet.

 

“It was supposed to be a meeting,” Richard said. “But they called in their supporters halfway through. It happened so fast...we should have known,” he snarled. “Ugh, they never wanted to actually talk anything through, we should have seen through that.”

 

“Aggie called me,” Dipper said when Richard stopped, seemingly waiting for a response from Dipper. “Well, she got scared, and that called me. I'll go fetch her once you're both cleaned up, so she's not more upset.”

 

“What do we owe you for all this?” Tabitha asked as she lowered herself cautiously into a chair, and Dipper saw the small flares of pain in her aura, the bruises and cuts she was minimizing.

 

“It's sort of part of the deal you made with me before,” Dipper said, floating closer to hover over Tabitha when the doctor, eying him warily, started checking over Richard. “Losing one or both of you would be harmful to Aggie.”

 

“...I'm too tired to argue or even try to make sense of that demon-logic right now,” Tabitha said, leaning back. “But thank you. We'd probably be dead by now if it weren't for you.”

 

Dipper felt a little thrill of pride and straightened unconsciously, hands clasping behind his back, almost at parade-rest. One wing flared out, shielding Tabitha, curling over her head and shoulders like a canopy.

 

“You're my people, now,” he said quietly. “I'll always watch over my people.”


	82. Adjusting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *slides in* Hey there. I have no specific prompt in mind, sorry, but hey, how's our buddy James Gallucio doing in Gravity Falls?

 

 

Gravity Falls was unique. It was terrifying. It was...comforting.

 

It was everything James Gallucio had expected and so, so much more.

 

Usually, he'd hit up a place and then leave as soon as filming had wrapped, eager and hungry for the next challenge, but there was something about Gravity Falls. Like a cat, it snuck its way in when you weren't looking, then you turned around and wondered just when it had made itself such an integral part of your life.

 

James wasn't sure he was ever going to find another place that felt so much like home.

 

Yes, he was still researching it for his show, and he was going to go forward with the season, but...

 

It was an adjustment. To everything.

 

A very long, painful adjustment.

 

James took notes on everything, and it took time for him to notice how skittish some of the citizens of Gravity Falls were around him, how they ducked out of sight each time he pulled out his camera.

 

It was another adjustment, to remember that they were hiding not because they were shy, but because they were afraid. And he was part of the reason they were afraid, because of people like him or worse.

 

He was going to have to edit this season very, very carefully, and keep a closer eye on it than ever before to make sure no one tried to add things to it in post-production, tried to change or edit his footage for sensationalism, so he could try to respect these people and this town.

 

James had thought he was fairly open minded, that he'd managed to rid himself of most of his immediate, reactionary thoughts when it came to non-humans.

 

Gravity Falls was proving to him that he still had a long way to go. It hurt, to realize just how much he was still carrying, but...oh the learning made up for it so well.

 

He'd gotten to speak to Officer Dubai, and it was very nice to have an ally, someone who really got what he was going through, who understood what it was like to come into this town and have all your attitudes change while the people you worked with were still in the same mindset as before and couldn't understand where you were coming from.

 

At least James was in charge of the majority of his work and didn't have too many people to answer to, unlike Officer Dubai.

 

 

And then there was Alcor. And the Pines family.

 

James had been right, he did find the Pines family at the Library, when he was finally able to go searching for it and them.

 

And they were not what he expected at all.

 

 

Okay, so having expectations for the Pines family probably wasn't his best move. But the Pines did have a bit of a reputation, and when you combined that with what James had seen on his first full day in town...well, it was a bit hard to blame him, wasn't it?

 

But when he finally found the courage to go to the Stanley Pines Memorial Library of the Supernatural (and he'd faced down possessed dolls, some of the most haunted locations on earth, demonically possessed items and places, why was a simple library so much more daunting? ...oh, right, there was a chance the famed Stanford Pines might be there...) well.

 

James had only had a briefly proper look at the woman who introduced herself as Mabel Pines, as he'd been a bit distracted at the time by the demon and the hunters, but less than a full minute in her presence had him wondering when he'd gone blind.

 

Because Mabel Pines was bursting with life, overflowing with it, glittered and bubbled with vibrancy and most decidedly did not fade into the background.

 

Okay, yes, there'd been a demon, but still.

 

Mabel still shone and sparkled like a shooting star. And her husband...James wanted to sit that man down and talk to him for hours. He'd never met someone so...rooted, so down to earth, and he'd met dryads and other folks with literal roots.

 

And they were related to Stanford Pines! They...well, they didn't know when he'd be back in Gravity Falls, but they were in contact with him, they'd be the first place he'd go when he came back, so he might actually get to meet the man who'd set him on this path!

 

Plus, he'd met Stanley Pines, Stanford's twin, and, well...he had no words.

 

Well, he had words, but most of them weren't fit for polite company.

 

On the positive side, the man seemed to be quite protective of his niece...though that was getting in James' way a little as he tried to interview Mabel, and Stan kept interfering.

 

The other thing stopping James from getting that interview was Mabel's brother.

 

Mabel's brother, the demon.

 

Mabel's brother, the demon, Alcor the Dreambender, who she answered questions about readily enough...but not always truthfully.

 

James considered himself fairly expert by now on when someone was lying to him, and both Mabel and Stan Pines were at the top of their game.

 

But for all that he'd come to Gravity Falls to investigate Alcor the Dreambender, James found himself not pushing when Mabel lied. It may have just been a feeling, and his producers would have fits when they found out he wasn't investigating every lead, pushing as hard as he could, but James had a feeling that the things Mabel wouldn't tell him were things he – and humans in general – weren't meant to know.

 

Plus, he was fairly sure Alcor was always hovering over Mabel, even when he wasn't physical. There was a feel to the air, especially when James didn't drop a subject when Mabel tried to change it, that hinted at it.

 

And he really didn't want to be on Alcor's bad side.

 

On the other hand, according to Mabel, Alcor was starting to like him.

 

He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

 

But if it was true, then with everything he was learning here in Gravity Falls, with all the friends he was making, human and not, well...coming to Gravity Falls was the best decision James Gallucio had made in his entire life.


	83. An Exorcist and A Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francisco (R!Ford) is the best exorcist of his time, perhaps in history. He's exorcised dozens of demons in his day, but when Alcor the Dreambender comes asking for an exorcism, things start to change...
> 
> Full prompt can be found here: http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/130408418521/a-priest-ford-reincarnation-whos-kind-of-meh-on
> 
>  
> 
> → TRIGGER WARNING FOR TALK ABOUT AND AN ATTEMPT AT SUICIDE + SLIGHT GORE PLEASE NOTE THIS WARNING ←
> 
>  
> 
> Not sure if the 'gore' is bad enough to rate the warning but better safe than sorry.

 

 

Francisco didn't like demons. In fact, one could say he hated them.

 

Their chaos. Their selfishness. The destruction and pain they brought to innocent people. Their utter lack of remorse for what they caused, so long as they had their fun.

 

It was why he was the best exorcist in generations.

 

And why he disliked Alcor the Dreambender more than any other demon.

 

No exorcism worked on that demon. No binding circle, no matter how powerful, could contain him. It was as though he laughed in the face of everything Francisco had studied, created, and stood for.

 

Francisco didn't mess with Alcor, and so far, Alcor didn't mess with Francisco, despite the successful exorcisms the man had accomplished.

 

That seemed about par for the course with demons. They didn't care for each other, so why should they care if one mortal put a dent in their ranks, save if they, themselves, felt threatened?

 

So Francisco continued to ignore Alcor and assumed that, so long as he did so, Alcor would continue to ignore him.

 

 

Francisco locked the door behind himself, dropping his heavy bag onto the table by the door.

 

Another long day of research over, but it would lead to another exorcism eventually, or at least more knowledge in the world about protecting oneself against demons and their ilk and getting rid of them when they did attack, so Francisco called it a success.

 

Then he hit the light switch and nearly had a heart attack.

 

Had any other human been in the house, they would have been impressed with how quickly the weapon was out and pointed at the intruder.

 

Not that it would do much damage, but it would hurt, and both Francisco and the demon he threatened knew it.

 

Across the room, Alcor the Dreambender had yet to move. He was on the floor, backed into a corner, legs up against his chest and arms and wings wrapped around them.

 

He looked more like a child than the demon Francisco knew him to be, an illusion reinforced when he lifted his head enough to look at Francisco and Francisco could see the tear tracks streaking down the demon's face.

 

A trick. It had to be some kind of trick. Demons were incapable of tears...weren't they?

 

Of course they were, what was he thinking...what was going on? Why was the Dreambender in his house?

 

“What are you waiting for?” the Dreambender asked, and whatever Francisco had expected the voice of this most famous of demons to sound like, it wasn't this. He'd expected booming theatrics and static, not a quiet tenor, wobbly and filled with tears, broken and small, with only the barest reverb. “Well? Come on!” the voice, still broken and filled with so much sorrow it made Francisco's heart ache in sympathy even as his hand held the weapon steady, rose. The demon uncurled, falling to his knees, arms flung open, as if in invitation. “I thought you'd be faster than this! Just s̛h́o̵o҉t͟ already!”

 

Francisco's jaw dropped, though long practice still held the magi-gun steady. A lesser demon it would banish, destroying their physical body so thoroughly that it would be decades, sometimes centuries, before they could raise the energy to even be conscious. By that point, something bigger would no doubt have come along and eaten whatever remained, so for all intents and purposes, it was as good as an exorcism on the go.

 

Even more powerful demons would be taken out for a few years by a well placed shot. But the Dreambender?

 

Well, Francisco was pretty sure it would hurt the demon, and he'd be in pain for a while, but that was it, so...what was going on here?

 

Which was exactly what Francisco said, lowering the gun a cautious half inch. The demon bared his teeth, arms coming down and claws flexing, and the gun came back up, though Francisco had a suspicion that was exactly what the demon wanted.

 

“What does it matter?” Alcor demanded. “You do exorcisms, you're _proud_ of that. Well, here I am!” he declared, throwing his arms wide again. “ _D̵҉̢o͞͏̴ ͟͠i̵t̷͘._ You've always wanted to, so c͡om҉e͢ oņ!”

 

Slowly Francisco lowered the gun. “W͏hat͜ ar̀e y͢o̡u̴ wa͟i̧t́in̵g ͏f͞or͟?” Alcor demanded again. “You've wanted this chance your whole life, so just t͡ry͢ ̢al̵r̢e͠ady!”

 

“...everyone knows you can't be bound or banished,” Francisco said slowly. “At least, not by normal methods, or anything that's ever been tried. What do you want me to try so badly? What sort of trick is this?”

 

As if accepting that Francisco wasn't about to try and exorcise him right now, Alcor lowered his wings and arms, slumping back into his former position in the corner, slowly curling back up, wings wrapping around his legs.

 

“It's not a trick,” he said, and now that the challenge was gone, his voice was dead, leaden and small. “I just...I'm so tired. This was it. You were my last shot. No one else knows as much about exorcism as you do.”

 

“...right. Okay, demon, here's the deal. You're going to stay in your corner, and I'll stay over here, and so long as you don't make any sudden moves or try to do anything but talk, I'll hear you out,” Francisco said cautiously, curiosity winning out over common sense.

 

He mistrusted the hope that kindled in the demon's eyes, but he was committed now.

 

Cautiously Francisco sat down in the thick armchair he called his 'thinking chair', nice and far from the demon while close enough he could pretend he wasn't as afraid as he really was.

 

“...I want to die,” the demon said just as the silence was beginning to stretch for too long.

 

“...what?” Francisco stammered, stunned. Never did a demon _come_ to him and ask to die, no demon would ever, had ever, submitted to an exorcism. “I...that's a bit extreme...why on earth...?”

 

He stood, reaching again for his gun. “No demon would ever say such a thing. What are you up to?”

 

The demon didn't move. “I told you. I want to die. I'm done. I can't take anymore, do you get it now? You're probably the only one who could help me.”

 

“If you just wanted to die then you could fight against something stronger than you,” Francisco argued, even as a tiny part of him curled up and freaked that he was arguing with a demon.

 

“There isn't anything strong enough anymore,” Alcor said flatly. “And when there was, or if there still is out there, I can't afford to let them have my powers. Are you going to help me, or not?”

 

“I don't know how,” Francisco said, just as flatly, much as it galled to admit such a thing to a demon. “No one knows how to banish you. It's never worked. The best anyone's been noted as managing to do is slow you down for a bit.”

 

“Because the few times it happened I was still young, or I had someone to help me get free,” Alcor said, “I know how it can be done, and there's no one who'll come riding to my rescue this time. And I know you want to know how it can be done.”

 

Francisco paused for a moment. The demon was right, damn it all. He did want to know. And the chance to rid the world of the most powerful demon it had ever known...

 

But some small, concerned voice wondered at the pain in the demon's voice, and what he meant by 'no one will come'.

 

“It's a simple deal,” Alcor said, still in that flat, dead voice. “I get to die, and you get to be the human that exorcised the Dreambender. And all the information that goes with it.”

 

The fact that Alcor's eyes held the faintest traces of hope as Francisco agreed made the unsettled feeling in his stomach worse.

 

 

Francisco never had much to do with deal making when it came to demons, though that's not to say that some of the desperate ones hadn't tried offering deals to keep him from finishing the exorcism.

 

So he'd probably missed quite a few loopholes in the deal he'd made with Alcor. But for once, the human held the cards. Alcor wanted to die, and Francisco was the only one with enough experience to help him. If Alcor was telling the truth, that was, and wasn't just trying to get him to lower his guard.

 

The final deal they'd shaken on had Alcor promising he wouldn't harm Francisco, but this was a demon, they knew all the loopholes. For now, though, Francisco was going to act as though Alcor was going to be honorable, while still keeping an eye out for treachery.

 

If he was being honest, Francisco was fairly sure that most of his exorcisms hadn't actually killed demons. At least, that hadn't really been his intention, merely a side effect, though Alcor had argued that it didn't matter, the end result was the same.

 

It...gave him quite a bit to think about, things he really didn't want to face.

 

And as for what he was doing...suicide. This was suicide. He was assisting in helping someone commit suicide, even if it was a demon.

 

And he couldn't decide on which side of the ethics he fell on this.

 

Because, well, this was Alcor's wish, and shouldn't he have the choice of what to do with his own life, such as it was? But wasn't suicide against everything Francisco believed in?

 

He threw himself into his work so he wouldn't have to think too much about it...or to be more precise, so he couldn't think too hard about what he was doing.

 

Alcor had given him a month to collect everything he could find, and then the demon would start to help him.

 

And despite his misgivings, Francisco couldn't help his excitement each time he sat back and thought of what he was doing. Of all the people in the world, he was the one chosen to learn how to exorcise the most powerful demon in all creation, by the demon himself!

 

 

After the month he'd been given had passed, Francisco carefully laid out the circle and candles he'd researched, the ones he'd been able to craft for the most powerful exorcism possible.

 

Some of the herbs and tinctures and incense he would have to get for this were going to be expensive and difficult to obtain, so while he had a few, he was spacing out the purchases, to prevent anyone from realizing just what he was up to. And he wasn't burning the ones he'd gotten just yet, merely setting them out.

 

Most of them were the same as he would need for a regular exorcism, but there were a few that were a bit...difficult.

 

Alcor appeared with a little puff of smoke, and Francisco was pleased to note that the demon was quite punctual, appearing exactly when he'd said he would.

 

The demon looked better than he had the last time Francisco had seen him, he noted. Alcor still looked haunted, weighted down, but it was as if now he was trying to conceal the levels of his depression from Francisco, or as if the prospect of an end had given him hope.

 

Francisco wasn't quite sure what to think of that.

 

While he was thinking, Alcor hovered over the diagrams he'd drawn out, examining them closely.

 

“Impressive,” the demon noted. “Oh, and you incorporated the Evocation of the Snare of Hopelessness, a nice touch. Don't think I've seen that used before, very nice indeed. It's not enough to banish me, but I doubt much else could stand up to this circle as it stands now.”

 

Although he knew he shouldn't, Francisco swelled at the praise. The Snare of Hopelessness was his own touch, one that other exorcists thought silly – demons didn't feel emotions the way humans did, they argued, so why use hopelessness against them – but he'd had very good results with it.

 

It seemed demons had emotions, just not quite the same wavelength as humans – enough emotions, at least, to be caught in the Snare of Hopelessness.

 

Well, here was his proof, wasn't it? A demon seeking death, because he couldn't take it anymore.

 

Alcor was already moving on, with a passing comment that they would refine the circle later, leaving Francisco still watching as the demon hovered over the herbs he'd managed to collect, inspecting the lists of herbs he planned to add, muttering to himself as a clawed finger ran along the neatly printed names, their instructions and proportions listed beside them.

 

“Well, no surprise, you've been very thorough,” Alcor said, breaking Francisco from his thoughts. “But it's still going to take a lot of tweaking. I'm...sort of unique. But hey, any other demon...well. Let's get started. This is going to take awhile.”

 

 

At first, Alcor would appear at a scheduled time. He would appear, make comments on Francisco's progress, add a few suggestions, praise or express surprise at surprise twists Francisco had come up with, and leave.

 

That happened once a week for the first month.

 

Then, slowly, over time, Francisco noticed the demon...lingering. He still appeared promptly, but he didn't leave as promptly as he had before, as if he were finding excuses to stay in Francisco's company.

 

Then he showed up twice a week. Unexpected, but still pretending to be concerned with the progress of the exorcism.

 

Then it was three times a week.

 

Then, suddenly, it was utterly random. Francisco was never quite sure when he might turn around and find Alcor checking on his progress, almost guiltily, as if he craved the interaction but refused to say as much.

 

Francisco was suspicious, of course. But...every bit he learned about the demon would be something he could use to help the exorcism, to make it as quick and painless as possible, so after the visits began to pile up, he began to find little excuses to let Alcor stay longer.

 

Or to be more precise, he didn't go out of his way to hurry the demon out of his space, instead not commenting when Alcor stayed longer than expected, or just stayed, as unobtrusive as possible, long after the work was finished.

 

Then, one day, Francisco found himself talking to Alcor at random. Observations that once would have been spoken into empty air were directed at the demon, who responded with more humor and wit and humanity than Francisco would have expected.

 

And Francisco was having more interesting conversations with the demon than he'd ever expected to be possible.

 

 

Francisco looked at his calendar with a start. Somehow, months had gone by while working on this exorcism (okay, so he was working on it in his own time and had to earn money at his regular work, but he was spending every spare moment on it) and it was almost a year since Alcor had come into his life.

 

And, he realized with another shock, he knew more about the demon than he'd ever expected, though little of the major things that made him tick, as Alcor was apparently saving those for when the circle was closer to completion.

 

Like how Alcor loved, almost craved, an old, niche soda called 'Pitt', a peach flavored drink with real peach pitt of all things, or how he loved candy, or how he chewed on things when he got deep into thought, or the ridiculous television and old movies he would sit and watch for hours.

 

In fact, Francisco realized, he was almost starting to think of the demon as...a friend.

 

This was...this was bad. How was he supposed to perform an exorcism, something that was practically suicide for this demon, when they were friends?

 

 

It was about a week after Francisco's unwelcome realization that Alcor really began to open up.

 

“You're...going to need more information about me in order to pull this off,” the demon said, opening the subject with what Francisco had realized was his own natural lack of tact.

 

Francisco paused in his work, waiting for Alcor to elaborate. Alcor shifted in midair, shuffling the papers he was holding almost nervously. “Such as?” Francisco prompted when Alcor still hesitated.

 

Alcor took a deep breath – one Francisco knew by now he didn't actually need – and set the papers down. “Like my real name. And...some things I've never really told anyone but family.”

 

“You...have a family?” Francisco asked in disbelief, all he'd ever learned about demons flashing through his mind. Demons couldn't stand each other for long, they hatched from eggs fully grown on the rare occasions two demons chose to create one...

 

“Had. Had a family,” Alcor said quietly, and the pain in his voice took Francisco back to the night they'd first met. “They...they were human.”

 

“...oh,” Francisco said, just as quietly, and both were silent for a time, one wondering how a demon had a human family and what it would mean for them to be mortal, while Alcor was most certainly not.

 

“Um...what about Mizar? Does she know you're doing this?” Francisco asked eventually, gesturing vaguely at the papers covering the walls, the candles and herbs and circles.

 

“She's human, too,” Alcor said, “And right now she'd probably be happy about this. Her current incarnation said as much. She...was very firm and vocal about her feelings on the subject.”

 

“But maybe her next wouldn't...?”

 

“I'm too damn tired of being rejected,” Alcor said flatly, and Francisco winced. Demons may not have been known for their emotions, but Alcor definitely had them, and he was hurting, and hurting bad.

 

“I...really don't want to talk about this anymore,” Alcor said, wings pulled in tight to his body. “I...I'll be back. Later.”

 

And with that, he was gone.

 

 

It was three days before Alcor returned. Francisco kept up work on the circles during that time, knowing the demon would rather he did despite his worry.

 

Despite all his misgivings, he wasn't going to miss out on the chance for this knowledge, even if he wasn't sure about going through with the exorcism any more.

 

He was staring at a section of the circle that was incomplete, and would be incomplete until Alcor gave him more information, dourly until a voice spoke directly beside his ear, making him jump.

 

“Dipper,” the voice said, continuing when Francisco turned to look at him, “Mason Dipper Pines. Well, I usually leave off the 'Mason', but with something like this, it's best to have my full name, right?”

 

Alcor wasn't meeting Francisco's eyes, rubbing at his arm anxiously and staring at the ground.

 

Francisco's mouth opened and closed several times, at a loss for words, so many thoughts and emotions and theories jumbling together in his head they were tangling into a mass of confusion.

 

“I...what? How?” he finally choked out. “Dipper Pines was the hero of the Transcendence, the boy who died...stopping...Bill Cipher...” he said, trailing off as Alcor shrank, shrank down until it was a child in a suit that looked up at him with black and gold eyes through a shock of brown hair, a child that couldn't be more than twelve at the most.

 

“Who died stopping Bill Cipher and was turned into a demon in the process,” Dipper said. “I know, it goes against everything, and it should have been impossible, but that's what happened.”

 

“...you're just a child,” Francisco said faintly.

 

Alcor scowled, crossing his arms and pouting and looking even younger. “I'm over ten thousand years old,” the demon snapped, sliding back into his adult form as he spoke, the form of a young man in his mid-twenties, to Francisco's relief. “I haven't been a child for a long time.”

 

“Right, sorry, it was just...” Francisco paused, hands waving as he tried to find the words. “You _were_ just a child. If this is true, but you don't have a reason to lie to me, but how could this even happen? I mean, people have tried, unethical as it may be, and humans and demons have absolutely no compatibilities to even make a hybrid, let alone change species.”

 

Dipper gave a little shrug, clicking the pen he'd unthinkingly picked up from the table, wings and free arm still wrapped defensively around himself. “Combine a dying demon, a dying human, the Transcendence, Weirdmaggeddon...it was an unreproducible series of events. Should never have happened. And then me and my family got to deal with the aftermath.”

 

 

As the months passed, Francisco discovered more and more little snippets of Dipper's life, about his friend's personality, events that made his friend the way he was. About the first Mizar, the first Sarva, the niblings and reincarnations, bits and pieces of a life full of pains and joys beyond human imagining.

 

Some of it was for the spells, but more was just conversation, as if Dipper hadn't had someone to talk to about these things for a very, very long time.

 

And Francisco's doubts about the exorcism grew even as they grew more prepared, gathered energy and ingredients and spells to make it work on the demon that couldn't be bound.

 

But even if Francisco didn't want to do this...did he really have the right to stop his friend from doing this when he was in this much pain?

 

With that thought in mind, Francisco began to make some discreet searches on his own, on the off (hoped for) chance that they'd be useful.

 

 

Francisco had been putting it off, but finally, there were no more excuses to be made. The spells and circles were as word perfect and tight as both a human and demon could make them, all the components, from herbs to candles to crystals, had arrived and were cleansed, and Dipper had given Francisco every bit of information he'd need to complete the exorcism and then some.

 

Despite all his misgivings, there was no more putting it off, and Francisco had the feeling he'd only gotten away with as much fussing as he had because Dipper liked him, maybe even considered him a friend the way he'd come to view the demon, and was giving him time to prepare himself.

 

As for Dipper, it seemed that having a friend wasn't quite enough, and he was still fully prepared to go through with this.

 

So Francisco tamped down his protests and watched as Dipper inspected the circles and preparations they had made.

 

Considering the amount of power they were about to use, they weren't doing this at Francisco's home – it would attract too much attention, even from neighbors used to weird goings-on.

 

No, instead Francisco was borrowing one of the labs in the demonology department of the university, one that he had contacts with and access to whenever he scheduled it, so long as he was willing to aid in research.

 

He'd been careful to make sure no one knew what he needed it for tonight, what he planned to do. Part of him wanted so badly to let people know, to have his name go down in history as the man who did the impossible, but more of him wanted to respect his friend and not have an audience to what amounted to his suicide.

 

What a difference a year made, Francisco thought, preparing the necessary powder that he would mix with a tincture made and left to steep a month ago to form a paste he would lay inside the circle's symbols. A year ago and he doubted anything would have kept him from telling the world.

 

Dipper had suggested he leave a camera on, in case this worked, as proof.

 

It was morbid, but Francisco had it running anyway, despite his guilt. If Dipper wanted this recorded, then it would be.

 

Unable to put it off any longer, Francisco did the last preparations and took a last look at the circle and everything around it.

 

“You're sure about this?” he asked, turning to Dipper. “Last chance to back out.” The demon nodded firmly, floating into the center of the circle, left open temporarily.

 

“Let's do this,” Dipper said firmly. “I'm too tired to keep up going like this. Finish it.”

 

With a heavy heart but firm hands, Francisco laid the last part of the circle, sealing Dipper inside. Any other circle, and Dipper could have left, but the demon himself had created this one to contain him, to keep him from lashing out during the exorcism and to prevent a last minute survival instinct to make him fight back.

 

Dipper sank down onto his knees, kneeling on the floor and watching as Francisco lit the incense, spread herbs and mixtures, unmoving save for his eyes as the human moved around him.

 

He looked almost innocent, sacrificial, in that pose, and Francisco refused to look at him as he did the first beginnings of the exorcism.

 

Holy water sprinkled over and around the demon, smoke waved over the demon, who coughed quietly. Candles were lit and the true spell had to begin.

 

Taking a deep breath, Francisco took one last look at his best friend and began the chant.

 

It took three lines before Dipper lost his brave posture, curling around himself and screaming in agony.

 

Francisco's voice faltered, and he heard Dipper's voice weakly calling for him to keep going. For his friend, Francisco found new resolve, voice stronger as he kept the chant going, doing his best to ignore the renewed cries from within the circle.

 

An impossible wind kicked up inside the lab, rattling the containers on the table, several splintering and shattering with the force of Alcor's next scream.

 

The candle flames rose higher as each sentence was completed, never flickering or streaming even as the wind tore at the pages in Francisco's hands, pages he barely needed now, printed with the chants he heard repeated like ghostly voices in his sleep.

 

Francisco finished the first chant, beginning the second. There were three, the rule of three having been chosen over seven, and what little of Francisco that stood aside from the horror was grateful that this wouldn't be dragged out over seven, that his friend would have it over with more quickly than that.

 

Dipper was still screaming, voice glitching out, the sound of pure agony, continuous without a break for unnecessary air. His form was glitching out as well, bricks of black and gold peeling away from his body, leaving glistening approximations of muscle exposed to the air as the skin he'd conjured peeled away, golden blood staining the floor.

 

Quickly he started the third chant as Dipper began to flicker in and out of existence, claws digging deep grooves into the slate of the floor, his wails of pain dying down to tiny, animalistic whimpers, no energy left to scream.

 

The chant rose to a crescendo, winds swirling around Dipper in a rush, hiding what had become of the demon from view, and Francisco delivered the last lines in a near scream, and the winds and fires collapsed in on the circle with a sound like a thunderclap.

 

The room went deathly silent and Francisco collapsed at the edge of the circle, hands braced against the slate, the stone warmed by demon fire, remnants of a dying demon.

 

He kept his head bowed and eyes closed, tears breaking free and trailing across his face, pain he'd been holding back at the pain he'd forced on his friend and knowing his friend was now dead and it was his fault.

 

 

A soft choking noise, just on the edge of hearing, made Francisco's head snap up, and he stared in disbelief at Dipper, sprawled ungainly inside the circle, the tips of the claws on one outstretched hand brushing the innermost circle. The rest of his body was curled around himself, still wracked with shudders of pain, the ground under him stained with golden blood and face wet with tears.

 

Neither stirred for a long time, too exhausted and in too much pain, too much shock, to do much more than ride out the effects of the attempted exorcism.

 

Dipper was the first to move, a weak motion, an attempt to get up, one that was as weak as a newborn kitten's.

 

Still lying on the ground, propped up on his elbows, head hanging low, barely an inch off the ground, he spoke in a voice raw from screaming. “A-again,” he rasped, and Francisco raised his head enough to stare at the demon in disbelief. “Do it...do it...again, now, while...while I'm still...still weak,” he panted, and Francisco snapped.

 

“No! No, we're not doing that again!” Francisco said fiercely, so fiercely the most deadly demon in the world was left staring at him speechlessly, only just able to focus on him. Francisco summoned the energy to crawl across the circles to his friend, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him to his knees. “No! You're my friend, and I'm not putting you through that again, even if I could gather everything together for a second try! We aren't doing this again, and I'll destroy all of my notes to keep you from trying, do you understand? Never again! I...I can't see you put through this again!”

 

Dipper was shocked silent, raising a trembling hand to brush at the tears on Francisco's face, his own beginning to well up. Still crying, Francisco yanked Dipper into a hug, one that was shakily returned, clutching the demon close as if he still might disappear, a late reaction to the exorcism.

 

They stayed like that, kneeling in the circle, until Francisco's knees finally gave out and he had to shift their weight until they were sitting, still holding on to each other, in the remnants of the circle.

 

“I...but...what now?” Dipper asked softly, voice trembling. “I can't keep doing this, not the way I have been. I can't.”

 

“You're going to therapy,” Francisco said flatly. “Hell, we're _both_ going to therapy after this. And no, I'm not going to be your therapist. I'm too close to you, and I'm not trained for this. We need an expert.”

 

Dipper snorted. “Who, exactly, is going to be a therapist for a demon, Francisco? I can't exactly pretend to be human and get help...I tried. It didn't help as much as it could've.”

 

“I think I know somebody open minded enough to help, maybe even open minded enough to listen to a demon if I vouch for you. You're going, as soon as I talk them into it. Got that?”

 

“...okay.”

 

 

It took Francisco a week to get a hold of his friend. Little surprise, as they'd both been busy for quite a while, him with his exorcism quest, and them with building up their practice and establishing themself as a trusted and trustworthy therapist for the preternatural. It was likely only thanks to Francisco's earlier probing that he was able to get a hold of them so quickly as it was.

 

Francisco and Dipper spent that week in Francisco's home, doing little more than laying on the couch wrapped up in blankets and eating whatever comfort food Francisco felt like cooking, or takeout that he had delivered, careful not to let anyone see the demonic burrito on his couch.

 

For his part, Dipper barely moved, still too weak to do much else. Even staying on the physical plane took effort, effort that Francisco aided with his 'sacrifices' of soup and hot chocolate and tea (and takeout from his favorite restaurants, like the family owned pizza shop down the street and the Chinese place a block away, both of whom he'd already had on speed dial and had been to his home many a time before this).

 

The two talked more, much like they had before, only more freely, casually, without the exorcism hanging over their heads, and Dipper ventured that maybe this was enough, the suggestion faltering in the face of Francisco's disapproval.

 

Movies and ancient tv shows were also played on a near constant loop, a mix of Dipper and Francisco's requests, and who knew a demon would like something as old and cheesy as _The Duchess Approves_ and _Space Battles_ and _Montana Martinez_?

 

Of course, Dipper had to provide those movies as they were long out of print, but it was worth the extra snacks Francisco had to cough up to see his friend happy.

 

 

It took Francisco another two weeks to convince his friend that no, he hadn't lost his mind, yes, he really was vouching for a demon, yes it was Alcor, and yes Alcor the Dreambender seriously needed therapy. He really, really, really needed therapy, and so did Francisco.

 

There was a bit of Francisco that was self-aware enough to wonder if it was that last bit that made his friend really question if he was serious, since he'd refused therapy before this, claimed he didn't need it, and relief that he was serious that made them agree to help find him a therapist of his own (being too closely involved with Francisco as they were to give him the therapy he needed) and to listen to his story in full about just why he wanted them to give the Dreambender therapy.

 

He just insisted that it be in private, the way all their conversations were. If someone found out Francisco, the world's best exorcist, had become best friends with Alcor the Dreambender, or that Hinata, the foremost preternatural therapist, had taken on a demon as a client...well, it wouldn't go that well for either of them, most likely.

 

Though people were a bit odd about Alcor. Probably aided by just how odd the demon himself was.

 

Well, Francisco knew why he was such an outlier now, and though he refused to tell Hinata everything Dipper had told him, given that Dipper should tell Hinata these things himself, apparently he told them enough, as they agreed to give Dipper a try at therapy.

 

But if the Dreambender tried to harm them or a patient, Hinata warned him, then the deal was off.

 

Both Francisco and Dipper had to agree that that was fair.

 

 

Dipper shifted uncomfortably in his seat in the therapist's office, where he was curled up in the corner of the large, plush couch. He wasn't pretending to be human, and he could tell that, even though they'd been forewarned, it had still thrown the therapist a little to have him shed his human disguise when they invited him to do so.

 

Dipper was shielding for once, though, so he wouldn't have to see too much of the therapist's emotions. Some still leaked through, as he was too curious (and too much of a control person) to leave himself that open, but he was shielding.

 

The silence stretched on, awkward and waiting to be filled, as the therapist waited for Dipper to start talking, not pressing yet. He had a feeling they might start asking questions soon, if he kept his silence.

 

“...a friend made me go to therapy before,” Dipper said quietly into the silence. “I...she...the therapist...didn't know about...I didn't tell her about...this,” he said, gesturing to himself. “The demon bit.”

 

“That must have made things more difficult,” the therapist said, sympathetic but cool, and Dipper smiled faintly.

 

“A bit,” Dipper agreed flippantly. Awkward silence again descended, and Dipper could almost see Hinata wondering again if this was all some kind of elaborate prank, though still trying to give both Francisco and him, the literal demon, the benefit of the doubt.

 

Dipper couldn't really find it in himself to blame them, even if it did still hurt, a little. He...probably wasn't helping by being so distrustful and reticent right now.

 

Unbidden, he saw Francisco's face when he'd realized Dipper was still alive, the disbelief and joy and pain there, and behind him all the souls Dipper had loved and how they would have reacted, and he sighed.

 

“Okay, look, I know you're a therapist and there's codes and all that, but the stuff I'm going to tell you is dangerous, okay?” Dipper said. “As in, people have killed for some of the information I'm probably going to just say without thinking. Hell, this is probably technically a few levels above your pay grade, you're just the first one I decided to trust enough to tell this to. But I do need the help even if that's really hard to admit. Okay?”

 

It was a mark of professionalism that Hinata only blinked before nodding, slowly, and Dipper decided on the spur of the moment that he liked this one.

 

“So...a long time ago, I had a sister, and we were both human...”


	84. Happy Birthday, Alcor!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper's been having a rough time lately, but he's finally contacted Mizar. And she's decided to try and make him feel better.
> 
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> 
> And what better way to do it than a birthday party?
> 
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> Full Prompt here: http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/118304588129/headcannon-thingie
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> Been saving this one to mark a year of short stories. Also, shoutout to @robo-loo and @welcome-tothe-mystery-shack on Tumblr for checking it over for me so I didn't mess up using a wheelchair too badly. :)

 

 

Angelo stared at the tiny woman before him in disbelief. She smiled back, all innocent charm and wide, deceptively guileless eyes, bouncing the tiniest bit and projecting an air of too cutely innocent to be anything but real.

 

Angelo knew better than to believe any of it. Ever since she'd come into his life, everything had been chaos.

 

And glitter. So much glitter. So very, very much glitter.

 

But what could he do? She was still his best friend.

 

Even if she'd apparently lost her damn mind.

 

“I'm sorry, the sound of crazy seems to have drowned out whatever point you were trying to make. Run that by me again?”

 

Marianne took a deep breath, still grinning, though the smile was a little strained at the edges. Her words came out in a jumble, tumbling over each other in their haste to be heard and not interrupted. “Well it turns out I'm Mizar and Alcor thinks of Mizars as his siblings but he didn't come talk to me before 'cuz he's been having a really hard time lately and went through a bad patch of being like really out of it and kinda extra demonic and so he was avoiding me and being all mopey and worried about backsliding into being all bloodythirsty and he's trying to remember how not to be a giant buttface and it's almost the anniversary of the Transcendence and that's like his birthday, right? It's the closest he has, the way I figure. So I wanna have a b-day party for him 'cuz he's still getting a lot of rough summonses and he's having a hard time and he needs something to cheer him up and keep him from being all murder-y.”

 

Angelo pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache he got so often when dealing with Marianne's more outlandish ideas. “So basically, you're convinced you're actually Mizar, _the_ Mizar, the real Twin Star, unlike the random people who like to claim that despite the obvious dangers of doing so, and you want to get together to reform a cult that hasn't existed for over fifty years to throw a birthday party for a demon? A demon who, until a few years ago, was most definitely the deadliest creature in existence, but hey, it's all good because suddenly he feels bad about it?”

 

“...um...yes?”

 

Angelo sighed, and flipped the switch that changed his wheelchair from manual to magic before he tilted forward, letting the spells know to start it moving, taking it in slow circles around the room as he spoke, his version of pacing. “Okay, leaving out the logistics of dealing with a demon, and one as unpredictable as Alcor can be, for the moment – there's so much there to get into I can't even right now – there's also the logistics about trying to throw a party as big as the one I _know_ you're thinking about. We don't know that many people, you realize that right? And as soon as anyone figures out it's for a demon, do you even realize the trouble we'll be in? Not even with the authorities, though I'm sure they'd love to find out what we're thinking. But with our reputations. Do you realize what people are going to think when they find out we threw a _birthday party_ for a _demon_?”

 

Marianne started to speak, and he held up one hand, leaning to the side in his chair to make the turn when he hit the end of the room. The ever sensitive chair responded to the tiny motion instantly, the spells as responsive as always.

 

“What about the birthday cake? A demon's birthday cake. I wish you were kidding about this. What would we even make it out of? I'm not making a cake out of human flesh, Marianne.”

 

“...he likes buttercream,” she said mildly, for her. “And chocolate. He'll make deals for chocolate and candy.”

 

Angelo's wheelchair paused as he stared at her blankly, the announcement blue screening his thoughts momentarily. “Right. The demon likes chocolate,” he said finally. “Why not. All things considered, that's probably the least mad thing you've said today.”

 

Marianne huffed and crossed her arms. “Look, I get it, you think I'm crazy,” she said, irritation overshadowing her normal perkiness. “I wanted to tell you about this sooner. I just...damn it, Angelo, don't you dare make me have to choose between the two of you. I know Alcor's dangerous, I know we have to keep this secret, but I trust him. He's not going to hurt me. And I want to do this. And...I love you both. You're my family. Both of you.”

 

“You'll do it without me if I say no,” Angelo said with heavy resignation after a brief, heavy moment. “Ugh. Your crazy is contagious. Fine. Fine. I know someone who's into demonology, they can give us a run down on your demon and the cult you want to start back up. What cult was it? Oh my gods I'm going to start a cult what even is my life.”

 

“The Cult of Dippingsauce,” Marianne said, flinging herself forward to hug Angelo. “And thank you.”

 

“I'm not sure we can make it all happen in time for this anniversary,” he warned her, though her confidence and gratitude was making him feel like glowing. “If you really want this to be a big thing then we're going to need time to build up a cult. I mean, I've heard there are people who worship Alcor, but they might not be the ones you want throwing him a birthday party. They'd probably think it was sacrilegious or something, and I doubt we really want a demon coming off a power high around people who worship him. It would probably be a bummer of a party, anyway.”

 

Marianne's eyes started to sparkle in the way that Angelo had come to both love and fear. Hands clasped under her chin, Marianne gazed into space, stars in her eyes. “A year to prepare a party. The best birthday party the world has ever known,” she breathed. “A birthday party that will make even my angsty demon brother cry. From laughter. Because of how happy he is.”

 

 

The Cult of Dippingsauce was surprisingly hard to research. Angelo sat back in his chair, leaning back until he was almost flat, the viewing screen with the website he was scrolling tilting along with the wheelchair's reclining back as he kept poking at it.

 

In a way, he supposed it made sense. Even if he knew now that it was a benign cult, one that rose when Alcor was feeling more human, centered around people who were the demon's friends, it was still a cult dedicated to Alcor. And there were certain times when no one would call on Alcor, let alone call him 'friend'.

 

Though 'cult' didn't seem like the right word. There was nothing religious about the group, and as for devotion, well. The little he'd found made it seem like the members had always been just as ready to poke fun at Alcor as they were to pamper him.

 

But still...their main focus was on the most powerful demon in the world. Since it was apparently based on friendship with the demon rather than worship, it made sense for membership to wax and wane the same as Alcor's periods of...he'd call it 'near-humanity' rather than trying to find a better word.

 

And no one would want to admit to hanging out with a demon when the more inflexible laws against demons were in place. They'd probably be persecuted even harder than members of the Circle of the Dreamer's Star, which at least was a peaceful, kind religion, despite the whole 'literally worshiping a demon' thing.

 

Sidetracked. Again.

 

Angelo shook his head and tried to focus again on his notes. There was so little information out there that speculating about it was far more interesting than trying to keep researching.

 

And it wasn't like there was a 'how to start a cult 101' course out there. It was a lucky thing he was a writer and could pass of the searches he'd made so far off as research without lying, if anyone should ask.

 

Or more accurately, without having to say he was researching how best to start cults so he could actually, in real life, start one.

 

...maybe he would get a book out of this in the end, after all.

 

But the Cult of Dippingsauce was weird, and decidedly one of a kind, so this was likely a waste of time.

 

With a groan he sat down the tablet and shifted to make his chair go back to an upright position.

 

Honestly, if it weren't for Marianne...he looked over to where she was working with a fond smile.

 

She'd moved her party planning station to his apartment, since apparently she'd talked Alcor into avoiding it until he and Angelo were properly introduced. Angelo hadn't thought you could talk a demon into anything, but that was Alcor for you in a nutshell – never doing quite what you expected him to do.

 

Then again, that was also Marianne for you...really, Angelo figured she should be the one trying to form the cult, not him. She was far more persuasive than he was.

 

But, well, she didn't want to lead a cult. She wanted to throw a party.

 

If she was in charge, though...Angelo's eyes went wide as he was hit with an idea (and a terrifying image of Marianne in charge of the world, Alcor by her side, and the thought of glitter-bomb warfare). Smacking himself in the face, he cleared the information about cults from his tablet and started anew.

 

He was going about this all wrong. Grinning, he spun his chair to face Marianne's work station.

 

“Hey, Marianne...I have an idea.”

 

 

It had almost been a year since Marianne had started them down this crazy path, and as Angelo drove his chair through the hall, supervising the action, he had to marvel at it all.

 

This time last year he'd thought Marianne had finally hit the limit of wild ideas, but it was actually paying off.

 

But somehow, they'd managed to talk a good two dozen people into joining their newly formed Sorta Cultish But Really Not A Cult of Dippingsauce, people they could trust not to betray them to authorities and portray them as something they weren't, people they were friends with and who knew damn well who this party they were setting up was for, and who were so here for this.

 

Though, knowing and _knowing_ were slightly different. Different enough that Angelo had the feeling that, despite knowing what they were doing, Marianne was the only one who was going to still be this calm when they actually did the summoning.

 

Still, at the moment, everything was going really well. The balloons and streamers Marianne had picked out (too bright and glittery and neon, in Angelo's opinion, for a demon's birthday party, but, well...demons didn't have birthdays. Or birthday parties. And she wanted to cheer Alcor up. So what the hey, if she really was Mizar then Alcor would roll with it, right? And they _were_ really cheerful.) were strung along the ceiling and piled in corners.

 

The other decorations, bright and cheerful, made the whole room look happy. The cake, baked by Janice, who had dreams of someday owning her own bakery, had everyone drooling. It was huge, decorated with pine trees and shooting stars at Marianne's request – they didn't understand why but, again, Mizar and Marianne, so they'd done it – and topped with a sugar rendition of Alcor's symbol.

 

Angelo had no clue what the filling or frosting was, but he couldn't wait to try it. Janice had mentioned doing each layer differently, for more practice, so...

 

And the crowning masterpiece of the room (besides the groaning tables of food – and gods, the food! Nearly everyone had brought something for the party's pot luck, bringing extra to offer the demon they were summoning. Just to look over that spread was to feel blessed, and the smells coming from that table...everyone kept glancing at it, and there was going to be a rush when it was finally time to eat) was the card Marianne had spent the last week creating and gotten every single 'cultist' to sign.

 

Angelo had no idea where she could have possibly gotten the supplies to make the thing. The finished card was taller than Marianne was, for starters. And somehow, she'd managed to coat the front of the card in a superfine glitter that was so dark of a purple, it verged onto black.

 

In the center of that space dark glitter was Alcor's symbol, done in more superfine glitter, gold glitter, glitter that sparkled and twinkled happily with each shift of the light.

 

(The glitter was so fine, it was still appearing everywhere, even after Marianne had coated the thing in five layers of sealant. Angelo hadn't even gone within five feet of her work space when Marianne was making it, and he still had it all over his chair. He was never going to get rid of all the glitter...)

 

Angelo had never seen someone manage to do such cheerful, happy calligraphy, but if anyone could do it, it was Marianne, who'd written “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” in huge letters that curved over the symbol and filled them with rainbow glitter. Despite the demonic symbol on the front (which, really, didn't look very 'demonic' when looked at without knowing what it was, Angelo noted in passing, especially when done in extra-shiny gold glitter) it was probably the most cheerful card he'd ever seen.

 

And, of course, Marianne had talked everyone into signing the inside of the card, which she'd written a happy, cheerful poem in, both messages and poem written in glitter gel pen.

 

It was, quite simply, the happiest thing Angelo had ever seen.

 

 

Finally, though, all the decorations had been hung. Nothing else could be adjusted. The food was all the perfect temperature, but to wait much longer would bring it all to room temperature, and a few things most certainly wouldn't taste good that way.

 

The circle had been drawn, the candles were ready to be lit, and, all in all, they had no more excuses for putting off the summon any more.

 

Well, they'd all known this was why they were here – to summon a demon and throw him a surprise party.

 

It might have been easier if they'd tried summoning him before, but...they'd thought it would be more special if they waited until now.

 

Probably should have done a test run, in retrospect.

 

But Marianne had been so excited about them all surprising Alcor, and she kept insisting it would be fine, that he was having a 'good' period...well. Too late to turn back now.

 

Angelo drove his chair up to the edge of the circle, careful not to let the wheels smudge the chalk. Marianne had drawn it, and it looked far too simple to summon a demon of Alcor's caliber to Angelo's eye, but he was going with it. Supposedly Marianne knew what she was doing.

 

Though didn't they all look a sight, checking a demonic summoning circle on hands and knees, with their little paper party hats that Marianne had insisted upon.

 

(There was a paper party crown waiting for Alcor on the table, and Angelo was almost looking forward to watching Marianne talk the demon into wearing it.)

 

The four that were lighting the candles on the floor finished and hurried to light the candles on the cake and hide as Marianne flicked off the lights. Everyone else hid as well, save Angelo and Marianne – Angelo's chair wouldn't be easy to hide, and he couldn't exactly jump out with the rest – and there was quite a wide variety of expressions Angelo could see back there, from excitement to dread, as he did a quick check of them all before he turned back to the circle.

 

Show time.

 

Marianne did the summoning chant alone, as they wanted to surprise Alcor. Angelo still wasn't entirely sure surprising a demon was a good idea, but it was really hard to say no to Marianne when she got an idea in her head, and even harder when you near worshiped Alcor (as a few of them did) or were a little bit terrified of him (as several more of them were) and knew she was the real deal of a Mizar.

 

The summoning call Marianne used was different from any of the ones Angelo had found, but that made sense, he supposed. Better to have Mizar have her own personal way of calling Alcor so he knew it was her.

 

Angelo expected smoke and theatrics, some sort of dramatic entrance, but apparently having a non-panicking Mizar using this particular summons got a different response, as there were neither. Just an empty circle one moment, and a demon the next, and in a way it was almost more frightening in its simplicity.

 

“Miz – Marianne, what...” the demon started to say, interrupted when Marianne threw up her hands, Angelo's cue to hit the lights.

 

The room flashed into brightness and everyone leapt up, yelling “SURPRISE!” and throwing the confetti and streamers Marianne had armed them with.

 

Alcor froze in the center of the circle, gawking at them. A few pieces of too-enthusiastically thrown confetti landed in his hair, glittering brightly against the brown, while the demon still just stared at them in silence, unmoving, mouth dropped open and eyes wide.

 

As the silence began to grow awkward a few party goers shuffled in place, beginning to wonder if they were about to be horribly killed.

 

And the demon finally moved.

 

Slowly Alcor's hands, trembling visibly, rose to cover his mouth as his eyes passed slowly over the room. The decorations, the food, the cake, his gaze finally resting on the huge card sitting propped open on the floor, the multitude of messages inside just visible from the circle.

 

Then Alcor made a choked noise, and Angelo was shocked to see golden tears start running down the demon's face seconds before the demon threw himself at Marianne, wrapping his arms around her shoulders with a choked off cry of joy.

 

Everyone else started to cheer, relieved and ecstatic – Alcor actually liked it!

 

Laughing, Marianne dragged Alcor by the hand over towards the table and cake, popping the crown on his head as everyone began singing 'Happy Birthday' to the demon.

 

Marianne had to poke him a few times before he was able to stop crying long enough blow out the candles.

 

 

Angelo sat back in his chair with an exhausted smile. The party had been going on for three hours now, and it was still going strong.

 

Marianne had brought her A-game to this, that was for sure. There had been games, and eating, and the cake was even better than advertised.

 

Angelo was eating his second piece of it now.

 

Alcor had eaten the food, nearly inhaled his first piece of cake, and participated in the games so far, stopping occasionally to just pause and look around him. It looked, in those moments, as though he was close to tears again, just needing a moment to stop and take it all in.

 

Angelo hadn't thought it was possible for a demon to look so innocently happy.

 

Lost in thought, it took a moment to realize there was a presence next to him, and Angelo glanced up, expecting to see Marianne.

 

His heart nearly stopped when he realized it was Alcor, watching the party with eyes that reflected a half dozen emotions, deep and unfathomable.

 

“She really went all out, didn't she,” the demon said quietly.

 

Angelo wasn't quite sure what to say, until he decided screw it, this may have been the most dangerous, most powerful, demon in the world, but his best friend called him brother.

 

“She really cares about you,” Angelo said, as quiet as the demon, twisting the can of Pitt Marianne had insisted they have at the party around and around in his hands. “She wanted this to be special.”

 

He wasn't quite sure what Alcor said to that, as the demon had his hands to his mouth again, and it looked like he was tearing up again.

 

Angelo watched Alcor out of the corner of his eye as the demon got himself back under control before he decided he'd gone this far, he was already at a birthday party for the guy, he was his best friend's brother, so demon or not, may as well try and make friends like he knew Marianne was hoping they would.

 

“Hey, I think they're going to start a quick campaign of D, D, & More D soon here,” Angelo said, sticking the can in the cup holder Marianne had attached to his chair. All these advancements, and he still had to add his own cup holder. Honestly, priorities people. “No holds barred, Dungeon Master makes the rules. You in?”

 

Alcor lit up, like a child on Christmas morning who'd just been offered a present they were sure they'd never receive.

 

“Do I?!” he exclaimed, and Angelo grinned and pointed at the back of his chair with his thumb, hand over the controls.

 

“Hang on, Loser, and let's see what this thing can do,” he challenged.

 

Grinning wider than a human face should have been capable, Alcor grabbed on and Angelo revved his chair, speeding across the room as Alcor cackled with glee.

 

Marianne, laughing, chased after them.

 

Angelo had thought this was a bad idea, but sometimes, it really paid to listen to Mizar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the rest of December, to celebrate all the different holidays, I'll be opening my tumblr inbox (phenyxsnest) for requests. Preferably, ones featuring my OCs.  
> [Here's a link to a run down of OCs](http://phenyxsnest.tumblr.com/post/154183828024/inbox-open), or check out the stories here. They're pretty much all open.
> 
> Just be warned, I'm a rather slow writer, so it may take awhile before the prompts are posted. They'll be posted here as a fic of the week. I can't guarantee anything, but I'm gonna try. :)


	85. Horror Movie Bound To Get You In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when I watch too many horror movies.
> 
>  
> 
> Note: Maeve = R!Mabel, Saoirse = R!Pacifica, pronunciation for Saoirse is found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=znCXvlhYV-Y;

 

Mr. Tyrone lived in the big house at the end of town, by the woods, himself and his two children.

 

The house had been rumored to be haunted, and no one had lived there for years, but that didn't seem to bother Mr. Tyrone.

 

Whenever someone would ask about it, he would just smile, the smile he gave whenever anyone asked about his past, secretive as if enjoying a joke only he knew, and ignore the question.

 

For all that he and his kids and his house were a bit strange, though, and Mr. Tyrone seemed to have problems with social interaction, their house was popular with the neighborhood kids.

 

As for the Spruce kids, well, Maeve and Saoirse were bright, outgoing twins, and their father obviously loved them, and they got along well with the other kids that flocked to their house as much for their company as for the other benefits it held.

 

Like the adult who would actually listen, or the apparently never ending supply of candy and baked goods.

 

Or the spare room for when things got too intense at home and they just needed a break, someplace quiet to hang out for a little while.

 

 

Dipper finished the last of the dishes, putting them away in their cupboards. For all there was tech to take care of mundane chores like that now, sometimes he enjoyed just taking care of it himself.

 

Though lately, he'd noticed a trend starting towards using less and less tech wherever they could get away with it, and sometimes, even when it would have helped to keep using it.

 

Ugh, he really didn't understand humans sometimes.

 

He just hoped it wasn't some weird cult thing springing up. Maeve and Saoirse had already had enough upheaval in their lives, what with the whole nearly-sacrificed and adopted by a demon thing, he'd hate to uproot them again. Not that he wouldn't if he had to, but he did know a few things about taking care of children by now, and being uprooted time and again wasn't good for them.

 

Dipper would have found another home for them, a mortal home, but...it was Mizar. And Pacifica. Incarnated as twins, and they needed a home with someone who understood what they'd been through, so...yeah he was still a bit softie sometimes.

 

Speaking of the kids, he finished drying off his hands and headed into the other room to check on them.

 

Another reason he was one of the 'popular' adults – he let the kids watch “inappropriate” movies, and they'd asked to watch one after lunch.

 

Although today's chosen “inappropriate” movie didn't make much sense to him...he could understand why the other adults might protest films like “Idaho Chainsaw Bloodbath”, but this was “The Starlight Princess: The Tale of Princess Mizar” for pity's sake! A 100% kids move (albeit with Alcor the Dreambender in it, playing a positive, sympathetic role, but still)!

 

He waved to the kids, getting smiles and waves back, before heading up to the room he'd made into his office.

 

He spent most of his 'human' time, when he wasn't directly taking care of the kids, in there, so they'd know where to find him if they needed him – and he could pretend to be working, fake having a job, so no one would question how he supported the three of them.

 

Dipper gave his desk chair a little spin – what was the point of having a desk chair that spun if you never spun in it? – and leaned back. Thinking about the movie had reminded him of the changes he'd been seeing lately in town, and he wanted to think about it a little.

 

It had seemed normal enough when he'd moved the kids here...sure, he could've gone to Gravity Falls, but he almost always went home when he had kids, and he was starting to worry that people would realize that whenever Alcor took in kids, he took them to live in Gravity Falls, and he didn't want people to realize that and start searching the town for their missing kids when they decided they wanted their possessions back. Or for researchers to keep an eye on his town, trying to find him there.

 

A demon shouldn't be too predictable, after all.

 

...getting off track there again, Dipper, he scolded himself. Feeling eyes on his back and hearing the soft creak of the door being eased open, though only a crack, he mentally rolled his eyes and suppressed the urge to snicker.

 

Without opening his eyes or turning around, he spoke. “I know you're there, Aaron. You should go watch the movie with the other kids.”

 

There was a quiet “Drat,” from the door and it creaked shut again. Dipper only let the smile stretch across his face when he was sure Aaron wasn't coming back.

 

That kid really reminded Dipper of his human self, sometimes. He was so sure there was something off about Mr. Tyrone, though he couldn't prove anything, but that wasn't for lack of trying. He was bound and determined to figure out what was up with Mr. Tyrone – Dipper wouldn't have been surprised if the kid had some kind of corkboard or box of 'evidence' in his room, though it wouldn't amount to much.

 

Dipper had been so, so careful so far, but he resolved to be more careful, as it wouldn't do to get caught, even if it was by a twelve year old.

 

It was one thing to get caught when he was just trying to stave off boredom by faking humanity and another entirely when he had people counting on him to keep his cover.

 

Especially when something seemed to be just starting to go rotten in this town, and he hadn't put his finger on what it was yet.

 

It could have just been a few parents being overcautious about their kids, but somehow...Dipper doubted it was going to be that simple.

 

Nothing in his life was ever that simple.

 

 

As the time passed and the twins approached their thirteenth birthday – an auspicious birthday in the Pines family, akin to most people's sixteenth when it came to magic – Dipper noticed more and more small oddities around town.

 

There was never anything he could put his finger on, but they were starting to add up, and he was starting to feel like he and his family were playing the role of unwitting protagonists in a horror film about small towns.

 

Extra awkward, when the adult of the family-in-peril is a demon in human disguise.

 

It ate at Dipper even as he tried to pretend like everything was normal. What bothered him most was that he was technically omniscient – he should know what was going on, but still didn't. Not without looking, and that sometimes (okay, almost always) came with...complications.

 

He'd ask some of the other parents, but...human-ing was still so hard. Kids picked up on things even faster than adults sometimes, but he knew there were times he was skimming by on his reputation as the 'eccentric' adult.

 

And it wasn't working all that well, as evidenced by Aaron, at least, recognizing that there was something 'off' about Mr. Tyrone.

 

Maybe he'd get lucky, for once, and another parent would bring something up, and he wouldn't have to figure out an excuse.

 

 

It took him awhile – Dipper was, as per usual, focused mostly on his kids and the souls of his loved ones currently in the living part of the cycle, with heaviest focus on the kids in his care – but he finally started to notice other parents walking in groups with their kids.

 

Kids not being allowed to go places on their own. Not able to play outside. Being watched by their parents every moment they were out of the house. Not being allowed to visit other people's houses as often as before.

 

But, for some reason, they were still allowed to gather at his, so he decided to try and probe next time the adults came by to drop them off.

 

 

Dipper tried not to shift in his chair and asked himself again why he felt the need to talk to the other 'adults'.

 

It wasn't often that they all came in – in fact, usually, the parents had a tendency to avoid spending time at his house about as much as the kids crowded to it, only stopping by long enough to pick kids up or drop them off. That was usually fine with Dipper, as he could avoid having to try and make small talk.

 

It was always so awkward, especially when they started asking questions – questions that were just part of normal, everyday adult conversation, but that Dipper didn't always have an answer to.

 

With that thought in mind, Dipper had set out coffee (thank you automatic magi-tech coffee machine, without whom he never would have managed it) and some of the cookies he'd gotten in a recent Circle of the Dreamer's Star sacrifice, to urge the adults to come in and talk – and to give him an out if they asked him something.

 

Letting go of a sacrifice was painful, in multiple ways, but he soothed his demon snarlings with the surety that he could get knowledge in exchange, without having to resort to omniscience, which could sometimes be a bit hit and miss.

 

Having the walls bleed because he reached too far or too hard was still not fun and a giant pain to clean up.

 

 

Dipper took another sip of heavily cream and sugar loaded coffee and did his best not to sigh or look impatient.

 

At least the other parents didn't ask about awkward things like where the twins came from anymore, having accepted 'adopted' back when the trio first moved in.

 

Right now the conversation was on the kids, and Dipper was only contributing when directly addressed. He...seemed to have fewer missteps when he did that.

 

That, and sometimes he was too into his kids, and embarrassed all of them. That or he came across as...well, as off. Strange. That weirdo in the big house.

 

“...just haven't felt comfortable letting them out alone anymore, you know?” Gabriela's parent was saying, and Dipper tuned back in to the conversation.

 

“I know,” Aaron's dad, Peter, said, twisting his coffee cup. Aaron's dad had a touch of the Sight, not enough to See what Dipper was when he was shielding this hard but enough to know when things were off, and sometimes Dipper wondered if Aaron had gotten some of it. It would explain why the kid was always watching him. “Things...I think things started getting creepy when that new church moved into town. They're always acting like they're here to change this place, know what I mean? Like they're doing us a favor by being here and trying to make us be like them. Like they know better than us.”

 

Dipper's ears perked up – metaphorically, for once, as he had his ears rounded to fit in with the mostly human mortals – and he leaned in closer to the table. “Wait, what church?”

 

“Oh, forgot you wouldn't know about them,” Viktor, another parent, said. “You don't go out much without the kids, do you? There's this new church in town, they showed up about a couple months ago, maybe a bit longer, hard to really tell. They took over this abandoned hall out in the woods, mostly keep to themselves, but they've been started to come into town more often lately. They're always traveling in groups, and they glare at everyone else like they're judging us.”

 

“There's something off about them,” Peter muttered, still playing with his cup. “I swear, it's like they're choosing who's worthy and who's not.”

 

“But they've never done anything but watch?” Dipper asked. “Not that I'm, you know, not that I'm saying they aren't being creepy, just, that's all they're doing so far? 'Cuz I've felt like we're being watched when we're in town, me and the kids, and I don't like it.”

 

“Heh, well, you're among friends on that,” Gabriela's parent said, laughing lightly. “But they probably were watching you. You and two kids, living alone in a house that's supposed to be haunted, and most of the kids like hanging out here? Yeah, they probably hate that, if the few encounters I had with them are anything to go by. But the kids feel safe here, dunno why.”

 

“I think they're just being creepy,” another parent commented. “They'll get tired soon enough if we keep ignoring them.”

 

“So long as no one else joins them,” Viktor muttered darkly. “There's a few folk around here I think are thinking about it, if they haven't already. Never did care for them much, but still...”

 

The conversation began to drift from there as Dipper sat back, only participating when he was addressed, thinking over what he'd heard.

 

One thing he was sure of – expecting this new 'church' to just get bored and leave never worked. Never had, and likely never would.

 

 

Dipper was more and more on edge as time passed and the church still didn't make a move.

 

He did not appreciate being watched, and even though the kids that were the most frequent visitors at his house had good, loving homes, he still considered the ones that spent the most time at his house 'his' by now, so he had quite a few kids to worry over with this church watching them all.

 

Yes, their parents were watching them as well, but...they didn't have the resources Dipper had.

 

It was the very fact that the church wasn't doing anything was what got to him. It would help if they'd start preaching at people, or harassing people, or just something, anything to let him know which way they were going to escalate, what their end goal was.

 

Omniscience did nothing for seeing the future clearly enough to make a difference when there were so many potential outcomes, and the headache and cleaning up of demonic blood or slime that had dripped from the wall wasn't worth it. Not when he could try and figure it out other ways that didn't leave him aching and feeling like his head was too full.

 

Dipper did try going into the woods one day when Maeve and Saoirse were safely in school. It was a frustratingly fruitless mission, as he felt the holy objects this new church had plastered their building with from almost a mile away.

 

He did notice that the potency of the holiness was fading, and unless he missed his guess, they'd be little more than the materials they were made of when it came to repelling evil within the month, two at the most, if this rate of decay kept up.

 

After that, and the hatred and fear he felt the objects absorbing would make them more powerful for him, rather than repelling him, giving him easy access.

 

But the very fact that the people inside that building were emitting enough negative energy to depower holy objects, from not just ineffective but to unholy, was worrying.

 

Dipper could have pushed through the barrier they made and inspected the church, but he worried about the wards (weak and poorly constructed as they were, done by someone with more anger than power and who shrank away from the thought of magic if their construction was anything to go by) going off and alerting those inside to his presence, or the holy symbols holding enough power yet to warn that something was trying to come in, to still harm him and leave him with burns that he'd have to explain.

 

Better to wait and test the area now and again, to wait until the wards faded and the symbols were just plaster and wood, and he could go undetected, rather than force a confrontation now.

 

 

The days passed, and Dipper noticed more and more people from the church hanging around town. If they were trying for subtle, they were failing spectacularly.

 

What worried him even more was the people ignoring them, or nervously pretending to, afraid or unwilling to have a confrontation – and the few people who had joined them. They were very few, but it was still upsetting to see.

 

It looked like it was going to be up to him to take care of things if they went sour, and how strange was that, that it was up to the literal demon to keep everyone safe.

 

 

As the second month mark approached, Dipper began to wonder if his inner Mabel was right and he was being paranoid again.

 

Except that a gentle (or, at least, as gentle as Dipper's powers could manage) probe towards the church out in the woods told him that the holy symbols out there were still wearing down, almost utterly negated instead of being empowered, by whatever was going on out there.

 

It took a lot of negativity to depower holy objects, and Dipper was really starting to get worried. But until they did something...of course, at that point, he'd be kicking himself for not doing something sooner, but he'd overreacted before, and he had two kids to think of right now.

 

Which meant he couldn't afford to do something risky, anything that could reveal what he really was.

 

Not even taking down a church that could very well be some creepy cult.

 

 

Dipper was in his office, writing down the observations he'd made on a new form of firebird he'd seen developing on one of his ramblings (it was something to do, and it felt familiar, like something he might have done if he'd stayed human, and was a good cover if someone came snooping) when he felt a surge of panic from the girls.

 

His pen skidded across the paper he still used rather than a tablet, leaving ugly black marks across paper and desk, and his chair hit the floor with a clatter as he scrambled to his feet.

 

From the backyard he could hear his girls screaming for him, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to burst into the backyard with flame and fire, to _rip whoever was out there apart_ for scaring his girls.

 

Dipper burst out the back door and suddenly the world went dark. He smelled must and saw only bits of light and realized it was a sack, someone had thrown a sack over his head and someone else had grabbed him from behind, arms pinning his down as they tried to drag him away and he fought as he heard his girls screaming for him, knew if the sack came off his eyes would be glowing and teeth sharpening to fangs, that in a few seconds he was going to go full demon on their attackers and damn the consequences.

 

Someone was yelling, a voice Dipper didn't know, and he felt the rush of a crude spell of sleep, one that made up for its lack of finesse with brute strength, and the meat sack he had created to blend in with fell to it in an instant, with barely time to realize what was happening.

 

 

Dipper woke, not in stages, but all at once, as if his meat sack were coming back online.

 

He couldn't sleep, could only let his mind wander from his physical form when he pretended to be human and needed to fake it, but with the sleep spell taking his meat sack under so fast and hard he had found himself trapped inside it, as blind to the world around him as if he had truly been unconscious.

 

Now that he was back in control of the body he felt the rope, twisted and tight, biting into his arms, his chest, wrapped around his ankles and legs, binding him tight to something flat and thin and wooden, and he realized it was a ladder when he shifted and he felt the rungs press into his back and the backs of his legs.

 

Keep calm, Dipper, he reminded himself. Find out what's going on, then you can go full demon on them. You don't want to blow your cover until there's no other options.

 

Then he opened his eyes and knew it wasn't going to take much before he utterly lost his temper.

 

The ladder he was tied to was standing upright, leaning against a balcony behind Dipper, one that went the whole way around the building's interior, and he was tied almost even with that balcony, high above the floor. Down below was a darkly stained fire pit, already laid with wood, and even from here he could smell the charcoal and fire starter.

 

The children, his Maeve and Saoirse, Aaron and Gabriela and more, almost all the kids that regularly hung out at his house, were bound tight with more rope, tied to the pillars holding up the balconies opposite Dipper, and it took effort not to let his eyes glow and to snarl at the sight of the kids, his kids, scared and crying.

 

Down below, the church members – cultists, Dipper corrected himself, because only cultists pulled shit like this – were listening to a sermon by their leader.

 

For once, the leader wasn't dressed particularly better than the rest, though that was a small thing, only justifying a footnote to his observations.

 

Since they apparently hadn't noticed Dipper waking up just yet, he took the moment to observe the rest of his surroundings.

 

Whatever this place had been before, it looked like a church out of a horror movie now. Grey and decayed, with hangings that looked to be homemade, the kind of homemade that speaks of a lack of skill and clumsiness and a refusal to let anyone with more experience help, and the things they tried to portray made Dipper's teeth grind with anger.

 

What still worried Dipper most was the fire pit, blackened from previous fires, that was below him, which he guessed the ladder would hang him over if it was lowered – and judging by the rope connected to the other balcony, the one that stretched across the space between balconies, that was exactly what they intended to do.

 

Sweet Moses, they intended to burn Tyrone Spruce alive and make his kids watch!

 

There were a lot of things Dipper had forgiven in his long life, and many more that he'd held a grudge over, and this one was going to go very high on his 'immediate vengeance followed by permanent grudge' list.

 

And the likelihood of getting out of this without revealing himself as a demon had just dropped to zero. There was no possible way he was going to traumatize any of the kids by letting these nutjobs do what they planned, even if rising from the 'dead' would have entertained him on most any other day.

 

It was fun to see them panic when he pulled stunts like that. But with the kids down there...no. Even if the reveal of Tyrone Spruce as Alcor the Dreambender was traumatizing, it would be nothing compared to watching an adult they cared about burn alive.

 

The rantings from down below, about 'purity' and 'driving out demons', were all things Dipper had heard before, but were no less vile and disgusting for all that.

 

He heard Saoirse warning them that “Our daddy is going to make you all sorry!” and he felt a sudden rush of pride in his kids and their faith in him.

 

Then someone down below noticed that Dipper had woken up, crying it out for all to hear, and the screaming began, curses of 'Witch!' and 'Burn him! Burn the witch!'

 

Dipper rolled his eyes and called down, “Maeve, Saoirse, look at me. Look at me, honey.” Both girls looked up, tears in their eyes, more hopeful now that he was awake, both of them knowing just who and what he was. “Don't be afraid. It's okay. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay, kids.”

 

The cult's leader smirked up at him, and Dipper wanted to smack that smirk off their face, before they turned back to their congregation. Lifting their arms, they began to speak.

 

“We have been called upon to restore innocence. We burn this witch, and we vanquish the main source of evil plaguing this town.”

 

“Come on, seriously?” Dipper muttered. They were really going to try this? What was this, the dark ages?

 

Some part of him was glad that he was the first they'd tried to do this with, the only one who would go through this. Oh, but he was going to make them pay, and they'd chosen the only person who could, and who wouldn't be harmed by this, and the demon in him would still be satisfied when it was all over.

 

Down below, the leader was still talking, and Dipper half paid attention as he started to plot out his and the children's escape until what they were saying registered.

 

“Not only the main source of evil can be cleansed and we call our duty done! We draw a line in the sand and say: "Demon, you will not cross!" But the demon is wicked, and full of treachery. He comes to tempt us in the guise of an innocent, that most sacred of pursuits, a parent, that he may corrupt those in his care. Those who aid the demon, who go to him for comfort, for shelter...they must also be cleansed by the fire from whence they came!” they declared. “To rid the world of this demon, to fully rid this world of his evil, we must rid it of all his influences, all those who his touch has contaminated, and to do so, our only choice is clear – we must burn these children as well as the witch that is the demon's vessel!”

 

“Wait...No. You can't. You can't. What the fuck is wrong with you people? They're kids!” Dipper shouted down at them, enraged.

 

Because no matter how much he lost himself, Dipper had never lost that drive to protect the children at all costs. Like hell he was going to let this happen to the kids, and whatever he had going to do to this cult before paled to what would happen now.

 

The leader spoke louder, more confidently, as if Dipper's cries proved his evil status in their eyes rather than being the outburst of a rational adult, possibly the only rational adult in the entire building.

 

“We burn the source of evil, his vessel in this world, and so fight the demon! We burn the minions he has begun to recruit, and burn the children, that was save the rest from his influence! But first, we burn the one who has cursed them all to this fate, and burn the witch, that his minions will know their fate!”

 

Around the leader, guarding the children, staring up at Dipper, the rest of the congregation seemed almost in a frenzy as they writhed, chanted, screamed, “Burn the witch!” “Make him suffer!” “Burn him!” “Burn the witch!” “Suffer!”

 

Then someone set a match to the waiting fire. It roared into life hungrily, the wood dry and well seasoned to burn hotter with less smoke, fed with the fire starter until it caught quickly, crackling and snapping, the flames leaping upward as if reaching for the assumed human and intended victim.

 

Even from up here Dipper could feel the heat of the flames, and knew that if he was truly mortal he would be petrified with fear right now, still felt the faintest thrill of it down his spine even knowing that he'd be fine, he'd have to abandon this meat sack but nothing was holding him to it but his own stubbornness, and he'd be abandoning it to go full demon on them anyway.

 

“You're all completely insane, you know,” he said, managing to keep his tone conversational, now that the initial rage had passed into the cooler waters beyond, so angry it had passed fire into ice, where the demon waited for his chance. Their bindings were worthless, the rope nothing but rope, and he was biding his time. His tone enraged them more at his denial of their chosen fate for him, excited them more as they waited to see him burn, but at this point, he really didn't care, save that it would make their fear that much the sweeter. “Kids? It's gonna be okay. Just trust me,” he said, ignoring the cultists and speaking directly to the children.

 

Most of the kids continued to cry and scream, fighting their bonds, and he couldn't blame them, but his brave Maeve and Saoirse nodded, faces tear-streaked and terrified but trying to be strong.

 

“After he dies, the Spruce children go first,” the leader declared to their followers, who were watching in ecstasy, and some of the emotions coming off of them made Dipper want to be sick. Then what they were saying registered, and the fury swept through him again, hotter than their fires, melting away the icy, focused rage. “There may have been a chance we could save the rest, but those two have been too corrupted, and through them the rest. We shall cleanse them in fire, just as we cleanse their demon of a father!”

 

Well that opening was just perfect.

 

“You've no idea how much of a demon I can be,” Dipper snarled down at them. “And if you lay a finger on my children, or any of these children, then you'll find out the hard way!”

 

Wearing an expression of smug righteousness, as if they were doing this for his own good and were looking forward to watching him get his just rewards, the leader snapped their hand out to the side and the ladder jerked into motion, dropping for a foot before the rope was caught and it was lowered, not quickly, but slowly enough to let their victim fully appreciate what was happening.

 

Then it jerked to a halt, high enough Dipper wouldn't die from the smoke but would have slowly burned to death, cooked from the heat, if he were human.

 

The kids were screaming, begging for the adults to stop, sobbing hysterically, and Dipper pulled away from the flame for a moment, the cultists screaming in ecstasy as he turned his face from the flames in apparent pain.

 

Then Dipper sent out a flash of blue fire, burning away the children's ropes even as the flames below him turned blue with the rush of his power.

 

The ropes around him burned away with the same blue fire as the ladder exploded, wood clattering to the floor as he dropped, falling to crouch in the flames. They roared around him, cradling him, but did not burn as his meat sack dissolved away, leaving him still looking human but no longer bound in a physical form.

 

“Maeve, Saoirse,” he called. “Get the others out of here and don't look back. Go to our safe spot and wait there.”

 

It was the adults, the cultists, who were screaming now, as Dipper stood, surrounded by flames and unharmed by their heat, looking down at the ones who tried to harm them all.

 

Their cries of “Burn the witch!” had given way to “Demon!” and “Witch!”, but this time the cries were of fear, not demands for action.

 

Behind he him sensed the cultists trying to grab at the children and stop their escape, and with a twist of thought Dipper sent them flying.

 

The children scrambled out the door, Maeve and Saoirse pulling the heavy doors shut, and the doors sealed themselves shut behind the children with more blue fire flaring along the edges.

 

“A demon, am I?” Dipper said, grinning, knowing full well that his grin was stretching too far, that his teeth had gone sharp, and not trying to hide it this time. His nails lengthened and sharpened to claws as his eyes began to glow, reflecting the firelight like an animal's. “You have no idea.”

 

A rush of blue fire ran over Dipper's body, a dramatic touch that he thoroughly enjoyed, burning away his human appearance and leaving him in his full demonic glory as his feet left the ground, floating above the blue flames that surrounded him, black as the void and traced with brickwork, his eyes fiery pits of golden light, the blue fire rising with him.

 

“You brought me here. Your actions destroyed the symbols you plastered this place with.  _ You were going to b͡u͡r͜n c̀̀h͢͡i͏l̵̡͢d̶̛r̵͢ę͞͡n͝҉ à̵̶̡̡ļ̛̛́́i̴̴̢v̵̷̷́̀e̵̸͠͏ ! _ ” he roared, fire pouring from his eyes, and his mouth, the cultists fleeing him, pounding on doors that would not open, windows that refused to break. 

 

He held up his hands, raised them shoulder high in a mockery of open arms held wide in welcome, the claws sharper than needles, and hissed. “You wanted evil to fight? Come fi͏gh̀t҉ ͘ _m̸e_ , then, and not some helpless children or people you've tied up while unconscious!”

 

 

None of the children would have been able to say how long they hid there, in the safe spot Mr. Tyrone had chosen for his family, waiting to see what was going to happen.

 

Most were still reeling, both from what happened and the revelation that Mr. Tyrone wasn't human. No human could have stood in the flames the way he had, but that didn't answer what he was, if not human!

 

Maeve and Saoirse were about the least traumatized so far, mostly because they were compartmentalizing the way they'd learned to early on, to keep functioning until they were safe and everything was over. And they knew their dad was going to be okay. The trick was getting everyone else to believe them.

 

They tried to explain, to say why their dad was going to be fine, why everyone was going to be okay, to tell everyone how important it was to keep the stuff they were learning about the twin's dad a secret, but the other kids were having a hard time believing it, especially when Maeve and Saoirse finally admitted to their father's true nature, at a loss at how else to explain.

 

Mr. Tyrone, a demon? Not just _a_ demon, but the Dreambender?

 

Well, all except Aaron, who muttered a “I knew there was something, didn't think it was that,” and sat back to watch.

 

Then Mr. Tyrone burst into existence, dropping and skidding in the dirt as he grabbed for Maeve and Saoirse, clawed hands holding them tight and stroking over their hair, checking them for injuries.

 

“Are you two okay oh my gosh you're okay everything's going to be all right now,” he babbled, and the fears the rest of them had about Mr. Tyrone being a demon started to seem a bit less terrifying, especially compared to everything else that had happened today. It was hard to be afraid of Mr. Tyrone, even if he did look like a demon right now, especially when he was being fussy. “You're okay, oh sweet Moses you kids are okay.”

 

Finally satisfied, the demon sat back, his wings wrapping around Maeve and Saoirse over his arms. “What about everyone else? Everyone okay?” he asked.

 

He was met with a chorus of “Yeah”s and “I guess so”s and he visibly relaxed.

 

“Guess the secret's out now,” he muttered, rubbing at his forehead. “I'm sorry, girls. I didn't see any other way out. All I could do was make sure you all got out before I...yeah. And I was in a rush to find you.”

 

“Are we gonna have to move now?” Maeve asked in a tiny voice.

 

“Why?” Aaron demanded, with more of the kids voicing their upset and protests.

 

Mr. Tyrone looked at them, and those gold on black eyes were creepy at first, but he was still Mr. Tyrone in there, and Aaron said as much. “I mean, just 'cuz we know now, it's kind of silly. It's still Mr. Tyrone, right?”

 

Mr. Tyrone was looking at them all now, and his voice was choked when he said, “You'd all keep this secret? For us?”

 

When the kids chorused in the affirmative, they were fairly sure they saw his eyes threatening to well up.

 

“Blood oath,” one of the older kids suggested, and each scrubbed at a cut or scrape to produce the blood, all of them having plenty from today.

 

“We promise not to tell anyone that Mr. Tyrone is Alcor the Dreambender in human form,” Aaron said, with Mr. Tyrone cutting in to add “Unless under circumstances where it cannot be avoided or he gives us direct permission,” and they paused.

 

He shrugged. “Always leave a loophole, kids. There might be a time when it's important that you tell someone this.”

 

Shaky smiles greeted that declaration, and Aaron repeated, “Unless under circumstances where it cannot be avoided, or he directly tells us to tell, so help me, ugg ugg.”

 

The other children chorused an “Ugg ugg,” and Mr. Tyrone laughed.

 

“Thank you,” he said simply. There was a moment, the sigh of relief that comes after everything has been dealt with, it was all over, and more of the kids went for a hug, despite Mr. Tyrone still being in his demon form, and he obliged.

 

“Your parents are going to be looking for you,” he said as they came out of the hug. “We'll need a cover story.”

 

“That part's easy,” Saoirse declared. “We tell them what happened, up to where you went all demon, say they were trying to sacrifice us to some other demon, and Alcor showed up all pissy because they were sacrificing kids. He let us out of there before he went for it, and we made it here.”

 

Everyone stared at Saoirse for a few seconds, and she sniffed and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “What? It's got enough truth to help us keep the story straight, and enough lie to hide the rest.”

 

Alcor wiped away a fake tear. “I'm so proud,” he said. The pointed ears that had replaced his human ears twitched, and he looked up. “There's a search party coming,” he added. “Remember the story, everybody.”

 

His form began to shift and change until the Mr. Tyrone the kids were familiar with sat in his place, clothing torn and smoke stained, rope burn on his exposed wrists and visible on his arms through the tears in his sleeves, and cuts, bruises, and burns dotting the skin they could see.

 

He looked haggard and tired, nothing like the demon they'd just seen. Mr. Tyrone collapsed back into the dirt, looking like he'd been through an ordeal, and more than one kid hurried forward, taken in for a second by the act.

 

Maeve and Saoirse began to yell for help, and they were all blinded by the flashlight that swept over them, their parents' voices crying out, the joy at finding them turning quickly to dismay as they saw the state their children were in, and panic as they caught sight of the state Mr. Tyrone was in.

 

Then there were blankets, and hugs, and the adults helping Mr. Tyrone to stumble out of the woods, protesting that he'd be all right.

 

Halfway out, the kids paused to look behind them at the safe spot.

 

Mr. Tyrone had said not to look back when they fled the church, and they hadn't, and they weren't sure if any of them would find it in them to return there, even after they were adults. But somehow, that safe spot felt almost sacred now, a secret among only those who'd gone through hell tonight.

 

And maybe knowing Mr. Tyrone was really Alcor was going to take a while to really sink in. Maybe all of this was going to take awhile to really hit.

 

But it didn't matter.

 

 

Because Mr. Tyrone lived in the big house at the end of town, by the woods, himself and his two children, in a house had been rumored to be haunted, and for all that he and his kids and his house were a bit strange, their house was the most popular with the neighborhood kids.

 

And they knew he'd always, always keep them safe.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yes, I am working on writing “The Starlight Princess: The Tale of Princess Mizar”, along with “Psychic Singularity”, but Nanowrimo hit and I was working on an original novel. Still am, actually.
> 
> Also, I'm still taking OC prompts, and will be until the end of the year. :)


	86. The Pines' Version of a Pony Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> someone talks Dipper into trying forms
> 
> triplets call unicorn
> 
> then beg for unicorn rides
> 
> Dipper is weak to the puppy eyes

 

 

“Hey, Uncle Dipper?”

 

Hoo boy, Dipper thought, looking down at three pairs of bright, eager eyes. If the triplets were breaking out the puppy eyes this early in the conversation, then this probably wasn't going to go well.

 

For everyone else. He could already smell the chaos potential radiating off his stars.

 

And hey, he was an uncle. Being partially irresponsible was totally part of the job.

 

“What are you planning?” Dipper asked, floating down so he was on a level with his stars, his niblings, the most precious people in his life, who he was supposed to be babysitting.

 

“Nuthin',” Acacia said, and Dipper snorted.

 

“Your lies demean us all. C'mon kiddos, whats on your minds?”

 

“Well, we've seen you turn into a star, right?” Hank said, almost dancing in place. “And human. Does that mean you can turn into anything else? Or are you stuck with those?”

 

Dipper sniffed, a hand to his chest in (mostly) mock affront. “Excuse you, I'll have you know I can change into anything I want. I just need proper motivation. I know you've seen me once or twice, so why do you ask?”

 

“I've got a bag of peanut butter cups that says we can think of something you can't turn into,” Acacia claimed.

 

Dipper narrowed his eyes at his eldest niece. “I've seen your dreams, Pole Star. I'm not turning into those monstrosities.”

 

Acacia stuck her tongue out at him, a gesture he returned, and she giggled at his immature gesture, made strange by his split tongue.

 

“What about if we gave you the bag if you'll prove you can turn into any real creature we can think of?” Willow offered, and part of Dipper protested that it wasn't enough, not for all the output staying physical and changing his shape would take.

 

“Is it not enough?” Hank asked. The kids went into a brief huddle before Dipper could say anything. “Double or nothing, final offer Uncle Dipper!”

 

“You kids drive a hard bargain,” Dipper teased. “Two bags of peanut butter cups, with an extra piece each time I get tired.”

 

“DEAL!”

 

 

Dipper floated in the yard, stretching and taking a brief break. He'd already done a dog, cat, a panther, a raven, and a panda, at the requests of the kids, and been petted and cuddled in each form – which was apparently the kids' main reason for asking for this deal.

 

The triplets were currently in a huddle, debating what they wanted to ask for next. Uncle Dipper was willing to use his shape shifting to mess with people, but otherwise it was fairly rare, and it was pretty obvious they wanted to make the most of this.

 

Then again, Uncle Dipper was also willing to do just about anything for his niblings, so they really hadn't needed the bribery.

 

“You know, you could always just ask me for whatever animal spurred this all on,” he called over to them, having a vague feeling that there was something prompting all this beyond cuddling cute, vaguely demonic creatures.

 

Three small redheads looked down at the dirt, shuffling their feet.

 

“Okay, now I'm worried,” Dipper said, floating down to be at their level. “Don't make me have to do the dog again, I'll hit you with sad eyes in that form until you tell me.”

 

“That's our job!” Acacia protested, and Dipper laughed.

 

“Yep, so don't make me do it,” he said. “C'mon, is it really that bad?”

 

“Mommy doesn't like them,” Willow said in a tiny voice, “She really, really doesn't,” and Dipper scooped her up in quick hug, unable to resist.

 

“Aw, really? What is it, a unicorn?” he asked, half joking, blinking in surprise when the triplets nodded.

 

“And a dragon,” Acacia added. “If we get time. But mostly the unicorn.”

 

“There's all these stories about them, but all the ones around Gravity Falls are mean,” Hank said. “And Mommy doesn't like them. 'cuz they're mean. But...we wanted to see one nice one. Once. Like the one on TV or in the books, from before the Transcendence.”

 

“Ah, I getcha,” Dipper said, setting Willow back down. “Yeah, Gravity Falls unicorns are jerks. Most unicorns are, actually. Really stuck up. You're sure you still want to see a unicorn?”

 

“We don't want to see an old Gravity Falls unicorn!” Acacia protested huffily. “We wanna see you turn into a unicorn!”

 

“One unicorn, coming up!” Dipper said, raising his hands in surrender when the triplets started on the sad eyes again. They were still young enough for it to be far too effective, especially on their demon uncle, who could resist binding circles and enslavement spells but not pleading niblings.

 

Dipper's form was blurring already, and a few seconds later a unicorn stood where he had hovered, rearing a little before prancing in place, pausing to pose.

 

Being that this was a demon shifted into a unicorn, there were no pastel colors to be seen here. A black unicorn stood in the yard, with glowing golden eyes, a black unicorn with a coat dark as the starless night that picked up blue highlights in the sunshine and eyes that shone like golden stars, brighter than ever against that pitch black coat. His horn sparkled in the sunlight, black as the rest of him, the tip glittering and sharp as his claws.

 

Black fetlocks fluffed at his ankles, and his mane was a blackened waterfall, thick and straight and flowing.

 

He reared again, properly this time, pawing at the air with sharp hooves before again posing, holding a position a true unicorn couldn't before falling back to three hooves, holding up a fore hoof to pose.

 

If you're going to shapeshift, go big or go home, especially in the Pines family.

 

The triplets gasped, eyes going huge as they took in their newly unicorn uncle.

 

“I want a ride!” Acacia declared, with Hank and Willow echoing the wish.

 

Dipper shifted, ears flickering. On the one hand, he'd given his niblets piggyback rides plenty of times before, but it felt different now that he was in unicorn shape. He wasn't a horse, dang it!

 

No one was allowed to ride him, he was the Dreambender! Devourer of Souls, Creature of Nightmares!

 

...unless you were a Pines, it seemed, as three sets of huge puppy eyes looked up at him and Dipper knew that the little protesting voice had never stood a chance. He'd been going to give them a ride from the first.

 

“Fine. One at a time,” he said sternly, pointing at them with his horn in lieu of hands. “You've never ridden a horse before, it's different from a piggyback ride. I can't hold you on like this. And we're not going over a trot.”

 

“Aw, boo,” was the chorus Dipper's pronouncement was met with.

 

“You're a demon, when did you turn into a boring adult?” Acacia demanded.

 

Dipper poked her in the chest with his horn, lightly, so lightly it was barely a tap, cautious of its sharp tip.

 

“Watch it there, Pole Star,” Dipper warned gently. “I may be a unicorn right now, but I've got to be the responsible adult right now too. We either work our way up to fast, or there's no rides. I'm not risking one of you falling. Got it?”

 

Acacia nodded sullenly, and Dipper nodded back. A flash of magic and the kids were wearing riding helmets. They tapped at the helmets in surprised as Dipper knelt and gestured to his back. “Now get on and let's get started before I forget I'm supposed to be the responsible one here.”

 

The triplets cheered and Acacia eagerly clambered onto her uncle the unicorn's back.

 

 

They ended up galloping.

 

Of course they ended up galloping.

 

They ended up galloping and taking a jump over a fallen tree right as Mabel and Henry pulled in.

 

Dipper, who had Willow on his back at that moment, slowed to a halt as Mabel stood beside the truck with crossed arms, tapping her foot.

 

“We asked him to, Mommy!” Willow piped up before either adult could say anything. She hugged her uncle's neck as she said, “We wanted to meet a nice unicorn, like in the books, so we had to ask Uncle Dipper.”

 

Dipper pawed at the ground with a fore hoof, ducking his head as the silence stretched.

 

Mabel's glare didn't lessen as she looked her brother over. Almost without realizing it Dipper straightened, tossing his neck to flick his mane and making Willow laugh as Acacia and Hank came running from the backyard.

 

“It had to be a unicorn?” Mabel asked, and Willow, Acacia, and Hank nodded so hard they resembled to bobble heads still on display in the Library.

 

“They wanted a dragon next,” Dipper said meekly.

 

For once, Henry was the first to break, laughing almost silently behind Mabel. He patted her on the shoulder once he could speak again, choking out, “At least they have helmets, look at how responsible he's being,” and set Mabel off.

 

“Do you want a ride, Mommy?” Willow asked when the adults had quieted, and Mabel grinned with a glint to her eye that worried Dipper.

 

“Darn right I do, sweetie,” Mabel said. “Why don't you kids see if you can talk Daddy into asking Uncle Dipper for a ride too?”

 

“Mabel, I'm not sure that's a good idea...” Henry said, barely heard over the kids' cheering. “Hoo boy.”

 

 

(Henry did, in the end, ride his brother-turned-unicorn. His feet nearly dragged on the ground, but he did it.

 

The scrapbook pages would confuse historians for centuries.

 

The dragon rides were saved for another day.)


	87. What In The World Is Professor Evergreen?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> deicidalfae asked: So what if Dipper did one of be a human challenge, and spent it as a demonology professor. By the time his challenge is up and he's ready to leave, every single one of his students have figured out that he's a demon. Just one too many rants about never using scented candles, or about how you should give Alcor all of your candy ever.
> 
> The dork only thinks he’s subtle sometimes.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/140412324934/so-what-if-dipper-did-one-of-be-a-human-challenge

 

Everyone agreed that Professor Evergreen was...odd. Definitely the oddest teacher on campus, in the running for oddest professor on the west coast.

 

Even people who'd never had a class with Professor Evergreen had heard rumors about his oddities.

 

Rumors that had started after his third day of teaching, and likely only took that long because it took three days for everyone to meet him.

 

But only those who took his Demonology classes knew just how odd their professor really was.

 

 

Professor Evergreen had originally been hired to take charge of the Demonology classes for the starting to mid range students, but as there was no one to teach the final two years worth of Demonology classes, it seemed Professor Evergreen was going to be in charge of those classes as well.

 

It was...a small field of study.

 

 

Professor Evergreen was overheard, on day three, that he only planned to be at the college for the single school year, though he might be persuaded to stay “if they offered up a sweet enough deal.”

 

A week after he said that, senior Peter Jennison started up a betting pool on just what the hell Professor Evergreen actually was, because only about three people in all the Demonology classes believed he was actually human anymore.

 

And that was only because those three had met some very strange people.

 

 

Professor Evergreen had already warned his classes, in the very first class, that the summonings were going to be rare. Something about it, the way he danced around the subject, the excuses he gave, the reasoning he used, started the second set of rumors that ranged from 'never actually been able to summon an actual demon' to 'ridiculous results for every attempt'.

 

With Professor Evergreen, it was honestly hard to say – except that most of the students with experience doubted the failed summons rumors to be true.

 

There was just something about the man, some almost demonic energy, that said he wouldn't fail if he were to try a summons.

 

It didn't really matter, as it was going to be some time before any of them summoned anything, even without Professor Evergreen's elusiveness on the subject.

 

But it didn't help the rumors any.

 

 

Three weeks in and the Introduction to Demonology class had gotten two lectures on the importance of not using scented candles during summonses, while the upper three classes had gotten five, three, and six, respectively.

 

All of which were apparently spur of the moment lectures, brought on by a passing reference to candle types and their use and symbolism in demon summonings, along with which demons preferred which.

 

Bets in the “werewolf” category were raised, based on sensitivity to synthetic and over saturated scents.

 

 

The next week, the upper level classes had a lecture about different blood types and their uses in summonings.

 

For some reason, that meant that they needed samples of the different blood, ostensibly so they would possibly be able to tell the difference and not use the wrong blood.

 

Some demons apparently didn't care, so long as it was blood, according to Professor Evergreen, but others would have reactions ranging from 'refusal to appear' to 'murdering offense' if you used the wrong species or if it wasn't fresh enough, while others could be fooled by a microwave and poking the meat to make it flop about a bit.

 

Between the insistence of having the blood samples and the Professor's (poorly) hidden eying of and drooling over the vials, combined with their 'mysterious' disappearance after classes were over for the day, bets in the “vampire” category were placed with more confidence.

 

 

“I'm sticking with 'vampire'. He was almost drooling over the blood samples today, didn't you see him?”

 

“A werewolf would be drooling over those too.”

 

“Yeah, not without meat attached. Plus, I'm pretty sure I caught him glaring at the sun, and I don't think he ever goes outside. Have you seen how he dresses? Who else wears formal wear in the daytime?”

 

“He was in the woods yesterday, I saw him. Total werewolf. Bet the suit's to throw people off the scent.”

 

 

Two days later, Peter gave up on the notebook and invested in a bucket of chalkboard paint, painted a wall in his basement he had always considered making a chalkboard, and began keeping the bet categories on there, with multiple notebooks to record names and wagers.

 

 

“You know what, I'm changing my bet. He has to be part fairy.”

 

“What? Part fairy? What are you even talking about? ...the yggdrasil doesn't work on humans, you know that right? Were you trying to smoke it or something?” Esteban demanded from his beanbag. Fiona sniffed.

 

“Come on, have you seen Professor Evergreen? He's even shorter than Mariadoc, and Merry's a runt!”

 

“Thanks very much, I needed that boost of confidence,” Mariadoc called from their seat on the couch across the room, nose still buried in their book.

 

Fiona shrugged. “I'm just saying, I know I caught a glimpse of a pointed ear, and if you cross a human with a fairy then they'd be that short. And that hair? Haven't you noticed how his hair is like, always perfect? And fluffy. So damn fluffy. Human fairy hybrid. Has to be. Nothing else would be that short and have hair that perfect.”

 

“If he is, do you think he can shrink down to fairy size? That would be so cute!” Star cooed. “I just want to put him in my pocket and take him home with me!”

 

“I'm just going to ignore that,” Peter declared. “That's a new category, and a new bet,” he declared, fetching the chalk. “Write your name and wager in a new notebook, there's a stack on the table. Label the front for me. Honor system.”

 

“Don't pixies have the perfect hair thing, too? And they're tiny,” Esteban argued, tapping a pen against his notebook. “Aren't they supposed to have wings? Fairies, I mean.”

 

“But pixies don't have the fashion sense Professor Evergreen does,” Fiona argued back. “And with those jackets he wears, it'd be totally easy to hide wings.”

 

“Hey, Peter, how many bets can we make?” Esteban called. Peter shrugged.

 

“Look, so long as you can back it up and pay up if you're wrong, I don't care how many you make. Just remember you'll have to pay for each wrong bet, man. Them's the rules.”

 

“I claim part pixie!” Star called. “Or a pixie someone spelled to look human! And be human sized!”

 

“You just want him to be a fairy or a pixie so you could kidnap him,” Esteban said with an eye roll. “I mean, good taste in the looks department, but don't you think you should find out what he is first?”

 

“Don't be species-ist, Esteban!” Star snapped.

 

“I'm just saying, for all we know, he'll just look at you like a snack, not a girlfriend,” Esteban said, scowling. “Plus, Student – Teacher relationships? Not all that legal. Or ethical.”

 

“To get off that discussion, what's your bet, Esteban?” Peter called over before things could get more heated.

 

“You know what? I'm calling a bunch of gnomes in a suit,” Esteban said with a smirk.

 

“Ugh, why do you have to try and ruin everything,” Star grumbled. “I still bet he'd be cute as hell all tiny like that.”

 

“Yo, I call half-elf,” Marty called lazily from his spot in the beanbag, buried so deep he had almost become one with the chair. “Gotta cover all the bases, right?”

 

“Right, so half fairy, half elf, half pixie, pixie spelled or experimented on, and a bunch of gnomes in a suit. Merry, you got a bet yet?”

 

“Not until I finish this book,” Merry called back holding up _Fantastic Species Across the World_. “I'm doing this the smart way.”

 

“Suit yourself.”

 

 

At the halfway point of the semester, just before Winter Break, the impromptu rants Professor Evergreen had burst into multiple times, in no particular order save the order someone remembered to note them down, were:

 

      1. Scented Candles Are Evil And To Be Avoided At All Costs

      2. Blood Species Does Matter, They All Taste Different

        1. To A Demon, That Is, Not That I Would Know Personally

      3. On That Note, Don't Sacrifice Humans, Dammit

        1. Or Any Sentient Being For That Matter

        2. Seriously What Is Wrong With People Why Would You Even Do That

      4. You Should Sacrifice Candy, Or Offer It In Deals, Some Demons Are Very Fond of Candy,

        1. Specifically You Should Sacrifice Candy To Alcor,

        2. In Fact You Should Offer Alcor Lots and Lots of Candy

          1. P.S. He Really Likes Snickers And Pitt Cola, Those Are His Favorites

          2. Not That I Know From Personal Experience Of Course

      5. Why Offering Your Soul To A Demon Is An Even Worse Idea Than You Were Told

      6. The Benefits of Hoarding Your Favorite Items, If Only For Their Potency In Later Deals

      7. Twin Souls Is The Most Evil Media To Ever Be Produced

        1. Also Alcor Seriously Hates Those Books

          1. The Princess Mizar Movies and Magical Mizar Are Okay Though

        2. Sub Lecture On The Foolishness of Summoning Demons To Be Ravished

        3. No I Don't Care If They're Incubus, Succubus, Or Concubus That Is A Seriously Bad Idea

      8. 'Normal' People Don't Get Excited By These Things And It's Important To Remember That

        1. I Forget That A Lot You Really Should Try To Remember

      9. People-ing Is Hard And So Are Society's Rules

        1. Why Do They Keep Changing The Rules

        2. Seriously Can't We Just All Agree And Quit Changing Them Already

        3. I Get Used To One Set And Then They Go And Change The Rules

      10. This Lecture Shall Now Be Devoted To A Random Tangent That Really Has Nothing To Do With Anything But Is, Admittedly, A Very Interesting Tangent

        1. No Seriously How Does Professor Evergreen Know Any Of This

        2. He's Not A History Professor

        3. Seriously It Sounds Like He Was There

          1. There Is No Way He's Human




 

Peter was pretty sure he'd missed a few rants. Some classes got more lectures in one subject or another than the others did, or had something that would trigger a tangent rant more often than the others.

 

That, and the lectures could be a bit random, and it was hard to tell just which was going to be a reoccurring theme.

 

Well, except Twin Souls. Bringing that up always got a rant.

 

Not that Professor Evergreen was a _bad_ teacher, per say. Just...a highly opinionated one when it came to his field.

 

And more than ever, it was obvious Professor Evergreen was not a human teacher either.

 

Which lead to the bet board, which was a bit out of control. Some people were sticking with their first ideas, while others had changed their bets time and again.

 

The notebooks containing the names and bets were a bit messy by now, but Peter didn't want to switch to magi-tablets and run the risk of getting hacked and having the campus faculty find out about the betting.

 

So far, the categories were wide and varied, covering the chalkboard wall from floor to ceiling. Some categories had quite a few more bets and variations than others, since not everyone was content with just one guess at Professor Evergreen's species.

 

By now, pretty much everyone in the four Demonology courses had at least one bet up there. With sixty six total students in the program ranging from freshman to senior, it added up to a lot of guesses.

 

So far, some of Peter's favorite guesses, if only for their popularity and their likelihood of truth (or sheer ridiculousness) were:

      1. A Vampire

      2. A Half-Fairy Half-Human Hybrid

        1. Or One Spelled To Appear Human Or Otherwise Trapped In Human Form

      3. A Pixie Spelled To Appear Human

        1. Or A Half Human Hybrid

      4. A Wood Elf Spelled To Look Human

        1. Or A Half Human Hybrid

        2. too short to be full human, too tall to be a wood elf/fairy/pixie

        3. multiple people now claimed to have caught a glimpse of a pointed ear when Professor Evergreen was distracted

        4. Which meant bets on types of elf and pixie and fairy were high

      5. A Small Dragon With Amazing Makeup And/Or Shapeshifting Skills, If A Very Small Dragon

      6. A Werewolf

      7. A Nøkk

      8. A Naga (though where Professor Evergreen would hide his tail Peter couldn't decide, the man had two perfectly visible legs) Or A Half-Naga

      9. Alcor the Dreambender

      10. A Bunch Of Gnomes In A Coat

      11. An Alien Trying To Understand Human Behavior

      12. A Unicorn Spelled Into Human Form (Professor Evergreen was certainly smug enough for it, and he definitely had the hair)




 

 

Some of the guesses were absolutely ridiculous – a demon teaching demonology? A bunch of gnomes? – but for for Peter that just made them even better.

 

The guesses weren't even getting into some of the crazier rumors. Like how apparently, under that suit, Professor Evergreen was shredded. Like, a twelve pack. Because he was part something or other, the rumor got a little confused as to which supernatural he was at that point. Just that it was one that would explain the strength Professor Evergreen sometimes displayed despite his noodle arms.

 

Of course, all the betting was going to be for nothing if they couldn't figure out some way to get Professor Evergreen to reveal just what he was, but Peter hadn't really started this expecting to find an answer.

 

Though if (who was he kidding, when) Professor Evergreen was revealed as something other than human, Peter looked to be making a good deal from this, even if about half of the bets were in food or random objects at this point.

 

Actually, that reminded Peter, but try as he might, he couldn't find any bets that dealt with Professor Evergreen's unrepentant and ravenous sweet tooth and his apparent infinite appetite for sweets. Surely there was something?

 

The only thing they all knew was that, there was no way that Professor Evergreen was 100% human, and his disguise was fraying at the edges.

 

 

They were three quarters through the school year, and no one had a clue how to get Professor Evergreen to crack.

 

Oh, he was still dropping hints like mad, but every single hint could still have fit under most of the categories on the bet wall.

 

Well, most of the logical ones, at least.

 

Time was running out to get Professor Evergreen to reveal himself, and if he did decide to take the offer to come back next year, the likelihood of him slipping up was less than ever.

 

The seniors wanted to know now, dammit. It was going to bother them forever if they didn't find out.

 

 

Several of the more outlandish claims almost seemed supported when Professor Evergreen finally had to allow summonings, and the demons they called kept looking over towards where Professor Evergreen was sitting and taking notes, almost fearful and hurrying through the summon.

 

One could almost say the demons were acting as if they were the ones being tested, instead of the students.

 

It was...well, it was pretty damn creepy.

 

And no one knew just what to make of it.

 

 

Peter was in class, fiddling with his tablet and, admittedly, not paying as much attention as he should have been.

 

Professor Evergreen was going to show them a new summon, though he was requesting a student perform it while he observed, as Professor Evergreen hadn't performed an actual summons yet.

 

Peter was going to take notes, of course – any summons could go wrong at any second, and it was important to pay attention.

 

But he also figured that this was going to be like the other summons Professor Evergreen supervised. The demon would show up, act tamer than a demon should and more nervous than the student doing the summon, and get out of there as quickly as possible.

 

Professor Evergreen had hinted that he was going to promote someone as a teacher's assistant to supervise the next summons while he stayed behind the wards, undetected, to stop contaminating the tests.

 

But it still meant that Peter wasn't paying as much attention as usual as Star went into the chant to summon Arezat the Impulsive, until Professor Evergreen glanced up from his list and froze.

 

Peter heard Professor Evergreen curse, quietly and creatively, and silently began to panic as the teacher began to hurry towards the circle, calling out for Star to wait.

 

But there was no waiting, as the chant was already complete and Arezat the Impulsive sparking into existence.

 

Professor Evergreen grabbed Star, shoving her behind him as Arezat solidified, looking over the circle, and Peter saw what Professor Evergreen had somehow noticed from across the room – a fallen pencil that had rolled onto the circle, breaking the line with its presence.

 

Arezat crouched, locking eyes with Professor Evergreen (he was looking a demon in the eyes! In The Eyes! This was bad, this was very bad) as the students in the observation room began to panic.

 

“Ý͘͢o̧̨u̢!͠” Arezat snarled. “Y͏̵o̡ur̡ re̶͜҉i̕͝gn͢͝ ͟o̷f̶͏ h̵҉u͢͠m̵i͏͝l̡͢͟i͢a̵͞͡t̡͡iņ̸g̡ ̸͠t̨̧r̶̛u҉͜e̡ d̛͝e͏m҉̵o͠ns ̀̕e͘n͞d͡s͢ ͜NOẂ͞!͘͏̕ ”

 

With that, he leapt at the two, and Professor Evergreen shoved Star out of the line of attack.

 

One of Arezat's many wings hit Star as she stumbled out of the way in a glancing, accidental blow, and she fell to the floor, clutching her bleeding arm.

 

Marty, with a remarkable turn of speed, hit the panic switch installed in the demonology summoning lab, the one they had been instructed to press in the event of something going wrong.

 

The first locked down the lab and initiated the extra wards while activating the sprinkler system, filled with holy water. A second switch, should the demon break past those wards and the shower, would set the campus on alert and initiate evacuation and lockdown.

 

Marty hit the first switch and the lab burst into light as the wards snapped into place, and Arezat howled in pain as the water hit him, but continued his scrambling charge towards Professor Evergreen.

 

Towards Professor Evergreen, who was sparking where the water hit, his eyes bleeding into golden irises and black sclera, fingernails sharpening to claws and teeth to fangs, and who met Arezat's lunge, tackled to his back with the momentum and sending the demon flying with a two legged kick to the stomach, sending Arezat into the wards.

 

Arezat screeched, convulsing like he had hit a wall of electricity, and fell crumpling to the floor.

 

Arezat was trying to scramble back onto his feet in seconds, but Professor Evergreen was already there, hauling Arezat up bodily.

 

“Keep. Your hands. O͜f̛f̧. M̕y͘҉.̛ S̨͠t͜͠ųdén̢̛̛t̨́͜s!̕͟”he roared, demonic static in his voice as he hurled Arezat back into the circle, the pencil having rolled away, knocked aside in Arezat's rush to attack, leaving the circle again solid.

 

Weakened by holy water and the wards, Arezat snarled at Professor Evergreen, or the creature wearing the form of Professor Evergreen, and growled out, “T̡͢͝hi͜s ͝͝įs̸͡n'͜͟t ̷̨o̴̡v̨e̸̢r̷̸͝!͘͠ ̷̀S̢͟oo͡n̕e̸r ̸o͡r̶͡ ҉l͠a̢͟t̶er̡̨͡ ̡͢y̧͜o͏u̸͝'̧r̕e ͞g̷͝o͘i̷̵͝n͘͡g̶̢͠ tò̕͢ s̷l̕i̛p͟ ̨̛͏u̸p,̵ ̸͟a͏͜ǹ̶͜d̕.̨.̷́.͠”

 

Star who had staggered upright, began to recite the chant for banishment, backed by Professor Evergreen, cutting off Arezat. The demon resisted until Professor Evergreen advanced on the circle, claws low and ready, still chanting, and Arezat screeched again, making everyone save Professor Evergreen cover their ears in pain before he disappeared in a puff of sulfur-scented smoke.

 

“Good job, Star, Marty,” Professor Evergreen (Alcor the Dreambender, had to be, could only) be said, brushing off his hands before he froze, and the students could all see the realization that he'd outed himself crawling over his face.

 

Professor Evergreen looked at them, back down at his clawed hands and back at them.

 

“Oops...” he said quietly. “Um...don't tell the Dean?”

 

Silence reigned for a few awkward, painful moments before it was shattered.

 

“I called it!” Terry exclaimed, fist pumping. “Bring on the winnings!”

 

“Hey, I called it too,” Aster said peevishly, forgetting in the moment that their teacher had just been revealed as Alcor the Dreambender and treating him as if he were still simply Professor Evergreen.

 

“Dammit, I was so _sure_ he was a half-fae of some kind,” Fiona groaned.

 

Meanwhile, Star, down in the lab with Alcor, looked as if she was torn between being thrilled at both being saved and praised by the teacher she was crushing on, terrified that he had been revealed as Alcor, and joyful that, although her bets weren't winners, demon meant shapeshifting which meant her fantasies could still be reality.

 

“Wait, what?” Professor Evergreen said incredulously, and Peter winced as everyone was reminded of the literal demon in the room, watching them all suspiciously and starting to get impatient, if the tapping foot and twitching wings were anything to go by.

 

Oh, but this was going to be awkward to explain.

 

Except... “Wait a minute...we should be asking that!” Peter exclaimed. “What's the dreambender doing teaching a demonology course?”

 

Professor Evergreen winced. “Looks like everybody has some explaining to do,” he said awkwardly. He folded his arms, flicking a wing when a random droplet of water landed on it and sparked. “And you're still going first.”


	88. Legend of Alcor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The legend of Alcor, as told by homeless/abused children
> 
> based on http://www.miaminewtimes.com/news/myths-over-miami-6393117

 

 

Don't go with the nice people.

 

The nicer they are, the less you can trust them.

 

Because the nicer they are, the more they want you to go with them, to venture into the dark, down into the deep of the earth, and you'll bleed, and you'll hurt, and the bad things, the ones that can't come unless they're called, they'll come and they'll eat you, flesh and blood and bone and soul when the adults are done with you.

 

And you'll never be seen again.

 

And no one will care.

 

Because no one cares about us.

 

 

But sometimes, you get lucky.

 

Sometimes, when you're down in the dark, when you're in the cold and the dark, when you are trapped and waiting for the next time they come for you, when the ones who were supposed to protect you were the ones to hurt you, when you knew you would never see the light again, you will get lucky.

 

You'll get lucky, and whether He was the one they were meant to all or not, He will come, because our blood, child's blood, was spilled, because we're hurting, because we're afraid, and He will come.

 

If you're in the dark and you're afraid, you can call for Him and He'll come. Find his circle, call out his name, invite Him in, and He will come to save you.

 

If they've hurt you, if they've taken you from your home, if you have no home, if they've hurt you in ways you cannot begin to explain, if you're abused or neglected or worse, then you can call upon Him for help.

 

His eyes are of blazing gold like the sun and the stars, and His body is blacker than the night. His claws are sharp and His teeth are knives, but His hands are strong, and though they might be covered in blood they will be kind, and you will find comfort there.

 

The circle can be a little sloppy, and He'll understand. The sacrifice can be small, and He'll understand. So long as you know his name, call out to Him, He will come.

 

He is Alcor, the Dreambender, the Twin Star, the Protector, the Light in the Dark, The Guiding Star, Father To The Forgotten, all those and more, and He will always watch over us.

 

He will come, and He will be angry, and He will be angry for you, not at you, not as all the adults have been.

 

And He'll make them pay. He'll make them sorry they ever made a child cry.

 

And He'll keep you safe, won't let them hurt you again. And when it's all over, He'll take you somewhere Else, somewhere Good, where there are other children and you'll be warm and fed and cared for and safe.

 

And you'll never be hungry or afraid or cold or alone again.

 

 

Sometimes, another will come, and they'll pretend to be like Him. Don't be fooled. They'll eat you, body and mind and soul, they lie and they pretend and they'll hurt you worse than the people will.

 

Only Alcor will protect us. Do not believe another demon's lies. Do not make deals with other demons, for they'll come and they'll destroy anything that was left in your life that was good, and make you suffer for calling upon them in your moment of need.

 

 

Sometimes, He is not in His right mind. Sometimes, He forgets what it means to be human. But still He will not harm you. He is a demon, and He is honest about that, and sometimes, He is more demon and frightening even to us. But somehow, He always remembers that the small ones are to be protected. That no matter what, He is to watch over us, keep us safe and take us Home.

 

He is always safer than the ones we're running from.

 

And He will always protect us.


	89. Legend Debunkers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awesomecat42 on Fan...demon:
> 
> I'm not really that into bands or anything, but if you replaced BABBA with, say, the Mythbusters or something, this is exactly how I would react! Mythbusters... OMG SWEET GRUNKLE OF ALCOR YES YES YES!!!  
> What if the TAU had it's own version of the Mythbusters and after the Transendence they also started busting myths about real supernatural things and magic and stuff cuz that stuff was real now and what if one time they summoned Alcor for a myth and you just know that adorable little nerd would totally geek out over the whole thing and everyone would just be like what even and this needs to be a thing and I really want to write this now but I can't write worth crap and please write this fic please please please I'LL GIVE YOU MY BLOOD!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, occasionally I do manage to fill requests. :) Goal for 2017: finish up more of the random fic requests I have stored away in my prompts doc. We'll see how I do.

 

Legend Debunkers had been on for years. It had a dedicated following and over three hundred episodes to its name, alongside a cemented, permanent spot in pop culture.

 

They'd moved on from urban legends a few seasons back, focusing on movie myths and viewer submissions for the most part, though occasionally returning to their roots. They were more than enough to keep the show going, even after the Transcendence hit and everything had changed, as people began to adjust.

 

But the viewer requests were changing, and there was a cry for help in most of them.

 

The world had changed, and suddenly many of the myths, the ones that were supposed to be superstitions or stories, were true. And people didn't know how to deal with that.

 

And while the hosts, Aaron and Jared, might not have known anything about _magic,_ they did know _science,_ and get enough of that and you could figure out just about anything.

 

Finding volunteers to help test some of them were going to be difficult. Neither host particularly wanted to do the myths that might end in someone getting hurt, even if said someone was supernatural. They and the build team might have taken stupid risks now and again in the heat of the moment, but keeping everyone involved safe was still important.

 

So no myths about 'does x hurt y' or 'will x part of y supernatural creature really do z', though they were considering testing ones like 'can vampires cross running water'.

 

It was a balancing act – which myths would help people, which would hurt people if it were common knowledge, and which ones would lead to Aaron and Jared being able to make things explode.

 

Plus, think of all the things they could blow up now that they had magic!

 

Of course, it took awhile to get all of it going. The production team had to find experts in the area of magic, and those weren't exactly thick on the ground just yet. Despite everything, some things really just couldn't be tested without an expert around, and magic wasn't understood enough yet to mess with.

 

With magic so new to the rest of the world, most of the people who knew anything about magic had been the weirdos in the old world, witches or freaks or crackpots, and some of them were still bitter enough about how they'd been treated to refuse to share their knowledge with others yet.

 

Of course, there were others, eager to spread the word, but there were also people out there spreading false information to further their own agendas, make people afraid of this new world and try to change it back.

 

Well, Legend Debunkers wasn't going to stand by that if they could help it. They'd helped people before, with their episodes on what to do if you were in a sinking car or myths about holiday trees, so they could do it now. No way they were just going to stand by while people spread around false information if they could help it.

 

And blow things up in the meantime, but just as a bonus. These explosions were sparkly, now that they had magic!

 

 

It took them four seasons before the demon myths began coming in.

 

That...was a problem.

 

Because while Jared and Aaron were willing to do some pretty dumb things for this show, summoning a demon was crossing the line by a bit.

 

But people were clamoring for answers, and their mailboxes were overflowing with requests.

 

Eventually, they were going to have to cave.

 

It took months of pursuing leads, examining information they had been given and found to be incorrect, before the production team found a possible lead.

 

Demons were treacherous, and no matter what precautions one took, it seemed that they always twisted everything to their advantage.

 

But, it seemed, they may have hit on a possible answer.

 

It was dangerous, and had a higher than comfortable possibility of going wrong, but it was also about the only thing that was going to give real answers.

 

They were going to summon up a demon, and they might have found just the one to fit their needs.

 

Of course, it wasn't going to be that easy – they were going to have to blur out a lot of things so no one watching would be able to copy the circle they were using, and both blurring out their mouths and covering their words with bleeping was going to be expensive.

 

But with editing and time constraints...they may just need that footage, blurred and edited as it was.

 

To increase their chances of a good summoning, the production team sent out inquiries to Gravity Falls, hoping someone there, in the town their chosen demon had claimed as his own, would be willing to help.

 

Alcor was somewhat unpredictable, but there were enough stories and documented instances of fair deals, being kind to children, and the like to make them choose him as their final informant.

 

Demon hunter Wendy Corduroy, only twenty five but already gaining a reputation, answered their call.

 

No one was quite sure a demon _hunter_ was the best choice for summoning a demon, but Corduroy assured them over and over that she and Alcor were cool, and that he'd talk to her.

 

And since Jared and Aaron were still hesitantly enthusiastic but not sure about doing this, well...

 

Calling on an expert seemed like the best idea if they were going through with the episode.

 

Though the fact that she had them ordering so much candy to do this with made them wonder about Corduroy's expertise. Why did they need so much candy to summon a demon, anyway? Shouldn't they have to get, like, more pigs or something?

 

 

Either way, if they didn't get killed doing this, it was going to make for an amazing episode.

 

 

Corduroy showed up, just as promised, though the production team did have to pay for her flight both ways from Gravity Falls and send a rental car to pick her up from the airport.

 

She sauntered in, waving at the crews setting up as she went, and introduced herself to Jared and Aaron, standing hip-shot and listening as they went over basic safety protocol and how filming worked.

 

“Okay, so you dudes want to film your opener then?” she asked when they were done. “I'm just gonna get this circle drawn, oh, and make sure your crews don't get a good look at this circle, 'kay? Alcor's kiiiiinda picky about who uses this version. I've got a sort of truce with him so I can, but he'll be pretty upset if it gets broadcast.”

 

“Don't worry, we're not showing anything, it's all getting blurred out,” Aaron was quick to reassure her. “And here, we've got the bleep helmet for when you do the summon,” he added, holding out a helmet. He plopped it on his head and flipped down the front, and a plastic strip with curse word replacement symbols landed in front of his mouth. “See? And we'll be bleeping out the words. Only safe way to do it.”

 

“You guys are really taking this seriously,” Wendy laughed, accepting the helmet. “Dorky, but practical. Did you get all the candy I asked for?”

 

“Over here, Ms. Corduroy,” a production assistant said, gesturing. “Why don't we go over it with you and get everything set up while Jared and Aaron shoot some of the interim sequences, then we can film your introduction and get things started?”

 

 

“Okay, first things first,” Corduroy, who insisted they call her 'Wendy', said as the hosts and crew gathered around the circle she'd meticulously drawn on the floor. “I want you to make sure you cut out the summoning. You can show Alcor showing up, but not how I got him here. And make sure you plaster this thing with warnings, 'cuz Alcor knows me and we get on so he's gonna be fair with me, but he's still a demon, yanno? Gonna be different if you're not from the Falls and you try summoning him for a dare or something. He puts up with a lot from us. Seriously, he puts up with all kinds of stuff for Gravity Fallers.”

 

“So it's like bringing a bomb into your house and hoping it doesn't explode,” Aaron said helpfully.

 

“Exactly!” Wendy said brightly. “I'm assuming you read over the stuff I sent you, so we're good on that front. Okay, dudes, let's get this get this party started. Oh, and you might want to let me do the talking when he first gets here. I'll let you know when you can take over.” She dug out a small lancet, pausing when Jared spoke.

 

“Wait, don't we have to sacrifice something?” he said. “I'm all for not doing it if we don't have to but still. We need to do this right the first time if we can.”

 

“Eh, just a bit of blood'll work to get him here, since we're not asking a lot, just information,” Wendy said with a shrug. “If you have something around that'll work, I'd rather not poke myself again.”

 

“I'm sure Jared has something,” Aaron said, adding to the camera as Jared walked off, “probably his lunch. The Hymeran satisfies his primal hungers in a civilized fashion.”

 

 

Joking aside, Jared did find some blood somewhere, enough to use to summon Alcor. No one wanted to ask where.

 

It didn't take much blood, not with this circle.

 

With a firm nod, Wendy flipped the cover of the bleeping helmet over her mouth to obscure it from view and dripped the blood into the circle, calling the proper, formal incantation to call for Alcor.

 

**“ _Stella splendida, te invoco. Te invoco ut facias voluntatem meam. Dico nomen tuum: Alcor!”_**

 

The circle sparked and smoked, and a ball of smoke rose from the center. Then, between one blink and the next, Alcor floated there, with less dramatics than anyone on the Legend Debunkers crew expected.

 

He looked on edge, claws bared and braced, but relaxed when he saw Wendy standing hip shot at the edge of the circle, smirking slightly.

 

Then he saw the Legend Debunkers and the crew.

 

Alcor's eyes went huge, and his fisted hands came up to cover his mouth before he began to vibrate.

 

Just as everyone was beginning to worry they'd somehow broken the demon, Alcor let out a high pitched squeal, happy fists shaking with excitement.

 

“Oh my gosh oh my gosh ohmigosh!” he squealed, shedding glitter, and Wendy coughed, a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

 

Alcor froze, a blush covering his face. He coughed into a fist, attempting to recover his dignity, still shedding glitter that was rapidly disappearing and slowly stopping.

 

“Wh̷y͡ have̸ ̧y͜ou ̡summ͠o̧ne̵d ͟me?͡” Alcor asked, a faint blush still coating his cheeks, and hoo boy that echo was going to play merry hell with the audio. “C̸òrduro͢y̡?”

 

“Don't look at me like that, dude, they wanted to talk to you,” Wendy said, pointing a thumb at Jared and Aaron. “I'm here as a go-between. Cameras are rolling, by the way. We've got candy over here to trade you for answers.”

 

Those eerie eyes went wide again, and turned from Wendy to the hosts, the echo dropping almost entirely from his voice. “Wait. You. Want answers. From me?”

 

Wendy gestured at them, obviously letting the hosts say their piece.

 

“Ah, yes,” Aaron said. “We have a few myths about demons to bust, and we needed experts. So we want a deal with you.”

 

Alcor was vibrating again, and Wendy rolled her eyes. “Chill, dude. We don't need you exploding into happy glitter again. There's way too many places to lose it here, they'd be finding bits of demon for years.”

 

Alcor stuck his tongue out at Wendy, but he did stop vibrating.

 

Aaron and Jared looked at each other doubtfully. They'd known Wendy Corduroy was from Gravity Falls and therefore somewhat used to having Alcor around, but this seemed far more familiar than they had expected.

 

“Look, dude, they got candy and it's time to make a deal,” Wendy was saying in the background as Alcor kept sneaking little glances at them. “I gave them the prep talk. Say, so much candy per hour?”

 

Alcor glanced around Wendy at the candy piled up in large, plain cardboard boxes, and they could all see him doing the mental calculations. “Those boxes all full?” he asked.

 

“I know you, dude,” Wendy said, crossing her arms and smirking. “All full, and each one's different.”

 

“An hour per box,” Alcor declared. “And I get to see the footage before it airs, and have final say over the episodes. You know, to make sure nothing dangerous airs. Oh, and I get to decide which questions I answer. And I want autographs from Aaron and Jared.”

 

“Two hours per box,” Wendy countered, “And final say over the episode, along with discretion over answers and what you have to deal with in terms of experiments, provided you play along to a point, for the autographs. Takes a lot of time and effort to edit these things, yanno. Plus an assurance you're not going to hurt anybody. I'll be sticking around, dude.”

 

Alcor eyed the boxes again, calculating. Each box was huge, roughly twenty five pounds each, and each box held a good five hundred bars.

 

It was a bit steep perhaps, but on the other hand, they would be pretty intense hours of testing and questioning, and it was possible they'd have to call Alcor back tomorrow to finish. At two hours a box, they should have enough candy for two days of experiment filming.

 

“Okay, deal,” Alcor said. He rubbed his hands together in glee. “Let's get started!”

 

 

The episode ended up as one of the most popular Legend Debunkers episodes in the show's history, despite the amounts of footage shot when Alcor, Aaron, and Jared began geeking out that later had to be cut and destroyed. (Although Wendy did claim a copy of it first, as part of her payment.)

 

It was completely worth trying to explain to the people in charge why they had such a massive bill for candy.


	90. Reluctant Role Model

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie the reluctant role model.

Robbie Valentino and the Pines family had a somewhat complicated relationship.

 

They could stand each other, which was an improvement, but there was baggage on both sides.

 

So in general, they avoided each other. Or at least, Robbie avoided the sister, since the brother wasn't exactly...around all the time. He'd never admit it, but a lot of that was guilt, for how he and Dipper had felt about each other while Dipper had been...had been human.

 

Until Wendy read him the riot act.

 

That wouldn't have been enough except, well, Wendy was right, and he was treating the currently sixteen year old Mabel a lot like the people back in Piedmont had, and it took about five seconds of watching her after Wendy had yanked his head back out of his ass to realize it hurt the kid.

 

And maybe Robbie felt just a little bit guilty. Fine, the kids had been, well, kids when all the personal biz went down, and he was being silly for holding a grudge. Mabel had always been kind of okay, if a bit too loud and rainbow for him. And she'd really gone out of her way to set him up with Tambry...

 

Ugh. Growing up was the worst. He had to, like, care about other people's feelings now. Or at least he had to or be the asshole, and be self aware enough now to realize he was being one.

 

 

Wendy was picking the twins up from school – or to be more precise, she was picking Mabel up, and apparently Dipper was joining Mabel outside the gates to ride back with her.

 

And for some reason, she was dragging Robbie along. Something about “You can't keep avoiding them, man. You're either there for them, and one of us, or you're not, but you can't keep wavering on it like this.”

 

Robbie sure hoped the others, Nate and Lee and Tambry and Thompson, had gotten the lecture too, or he was...well, he'd probably sulk a bit at least. They weren't exactly being Wendy levels of friendly either, since they were pretty uncomfortable about how to handle Dipper's new status.

 

Getting better, he guessed, but not really comfortable yet. Mostly because it was so dang hard to talk to the kid now and everything had to go through Mabel, but things were still kind of awkward. Better than the kids had been dealing with back in Piedmont though. At least here, the discomfort was because they couldn't tell where Dipper was or talk to him, not because of what he was now.

 

Okay, there was a little discomfort over that, but damned if they were going to let the kids see that.

 

 

“Ah, man, really?” Wendy said as they pulled up to the school.

 

Robbie looked over and saw Brad and Carl Corbett, kids he recognized because their older brother had tried to cause trouble for him and Wendy when they were back in school, give Mabel a shove from behind.

 

Her books fell, and though she was immediately in fighting stance, ready to go, Robbie could see the face she made when the books fell, that on the edge of tears look he'd seen a time or two when they'd all thought her brother was gone but she'd been trying to be strong. That look of someone who's dealt with too much already, and couldn't take much more before she shattered.

 

Robbie was out of the truck before he realized what he was doing, grabbing the kid who'd shoved Mabel by the back of his shirt.

 

“Hey, what'ddya think you're doing!” he yelled. The kid kicked out and struggled free, his brother already running for the hills. “Little brats!” Robbie yelled after them, shaking his fist.

 

“I could've handled them,” Mabel said, a little sullenly, and Robbie shrugged, sticking his hands in his hoodie's pocket.

 

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, embarrassed at his reaction. Why did he do that?

 

“Thanks, though,” Mabel said as she gathered up her things. Her head tilted, eyes going faraway in the expression even Robbie had learned meant that she was listening to Dipper. “Stop it, Dipper, I could've taken them.” Another pause, and “I do not take on too much, and you're one to talk anyway, Dippy-cat!”

 

“Dude, why you calling your bother a cat again?” Wendy asked, walking up to the two humans and invisible demon. “They totally got away, by the way. Sorry. Robbie scared 'em good.”

 

“Oh, Dippin' Dots is getting all mad 'cuz he doesn't think I could totally have handled them myself, but thanks for doing it Robbie, and Dip's acting like he doesn't hide when he's upset or hurt like a kitty does but he's accusing me of doing it.”

 

It took effort for Robbie not to smirk, but dammit he was trying to be nice, and Mabel had always been nice to him, even when he was aggravating her brother.

 

 

Things being as they were, the friends weren't able to be together as often as they used to – most of them were either off at college or getting ready to go off to college – but they were still making the effort.

 

Part of it was because they had always been friends, but two large factors remained that kept them in touch where other high school friendships had fallen apart...and theirs might have too without those two things.

 

The big one being that they'd been there, at Weirdmaggedon, the Transcendence, and if you hadn't been there it was hard to explain what had happened that day, the days leading up to it. Sometimes you just really needed to be with someone who got it, who'd lived through the epicenter of it all.

 

The other was Mabel and Dipper.

 

Because those two had given everything to save the world, and well, Wendy had put out the call – the kids needed them. Even with all the problems they'd had with each other, even Robbie had trouble saying no to that.

 

 

So they came home on weekends, as often as they could.

 

 

They were hanging out now, in the garage where they'd always hung out, when Mabel came in, as perky as usual, stopping all conversation.

 

Because Mabel wasn't in her usual sweater.

 

Well, technically she was in a sweater, since it looked like she'd hand knitted her top, but...no one had ever seen Mabel in black before, save that one day when they'd had to have a funeral for Dipper, to lie to the world that he was dead.

 

Fishnets and layers, thick boots and tights, gloves and blacks and purples and greys, thick makeup covering her face, Mabel looked like an entire Edgy On Purpose store had chewed her up and spit her out.

 

Mabel posed and did a little spin when she noticed everyone's eyes were on her.

 

“Mabel. What,” Wendy said flatly.

 

“I've gone Goth!” Mabel announced proudly.

 

“Yeah, I can see that,” Wendy said, “But why?”

 

“Come on, Wendy, I've got a demon brother! I bust cults! What's more Goth than that? Plus, this jewelry is awesome!”

 

Robbie, who had been sitting and watching silently and with mounting tension, threw up his hands with a cry of frustration. “I can't take it anymore!” he snapped. He marched over to Mabel and grabbed her shoulders, shoving her towards the bathroom.

 

The air around them turned oppressive, a sign Dipper was upset with Robbie's treatment of his sister, but it was just one more thing, unnoticed as the others tried to stop Robbie before he did something they all regretted.

 

“Look, kid, it's one thing to be Goth, but you gotta learn how to do the eyeliner right, okay?” Robbie said, shoving Mabel – though pretty gently – in front of the mirror. “Now get that makeup off and let me show you how. You can't just do the whole eye or you'll look like you got in a fight. Tambry, get those videos up, okay? The crazy eye makeup ones, with all the swirls and junk. That's more Mabel's style than plain lining.”

 

The air lightened considerably as Robbie began lecturing Mabel on makeup and how to apply it properly – along with instructions, like to make sure you got it all off before going to bed or it was just going to make the acne worse, do you wanna ruin your skin? Don't do like I did, come on – and showing her the videos Tambry brought up of fancy makeup tutorials.

 

 

From then on, it became almost normal to see Robbie fixing Mabel's makeup, even after she became proficient at it. Fussing with jewelry, working on dyeing hair, or making some kind of accessory.

 

That, or discussing the new jewelry and accessories on sale at Edgy on Purpose.

 

They were all pretty sure that the Goth thing wouldn't last – Mabel loved bright colors too much to restrict herself to blacks and purples for long – but for now, well, she and Robbie were both having fun.

 

 

Mabel was a full on teenager. They all knew it. And she and Dipper had been tracking down cults for a couple of years now.

 

Didn't mean those in the know didn't worry about them when they went out.

 

Possession was hard on Mabel, and it was hard on Dipper, to know what he put his sister through during the possessions.

 

They were still so young, for all they thought of themselves as being all grown up.

 

If there was anything both Wendy and Robbie could understand, it was thinking you were an adult while still being a child.

 

Of course, that didn't mean the Pines twins were happy about it – Mabel in particular had never really wanted to grow up.

 

Stan taught Mabel to fight, but Wendy and Robbie were the ones to refine it, to teach her how to take advantage of her weight and size.

 

It helped when Mabel got into fights at school, though those were rarer now that she was in Gravity Falls High, where people were much more used to the supernatural, and most had been there for the Transcendence and, if they hadn't directly been involved, had heard just what Mabel and her brother had done to save their town and the world from parents or older siblings who had been there.

 

There were just a few utter jerks who still bothered people despite everything else, though they soon quit after Robbie had a little talk with some of them and gave Mabel a few hints at how to deal with the rest and her natural Pines streak took care of what he didn't help with.

 

 

Robbie may have grown up, but he was still sarcastic and stubborn, Goth and moody.

 

In short, he was nobody's role model or big brother figure. Ever. Get away.

 

But then there was Mabel Pines.

 

Save her once from some bullies, give her a few tips on makeup, hang out a bit, and suddenly she's all looking up to you and making you feel like you have to live up to some standard she has of you in her head, like you're actually a good person or something.

 

It was exhausting, and more than once Robbie wanted to tell her to shove off.

 

But he couldn't seem to do it, and it wasn't because he was scared of her brother. No, really, he wasn't, 'cuz he knew Wendy would stop the kid from retaliating, and so would Mabel.

 

But...he just couldn't look into those eyes and tell Mabel to get lost.

 

And more than once, when he was sitting at the Shack, he caught that Great-Uncle of Mabel's watching him, and was just self aware enough to understand when Mr. Pines sent him that understanding glance, like he got the whole thing, that weird need to live up to what they thought of you and being unable to look them in the eye and tell them you were a terrible person.

 

Though the old man still laughed at him as Mabel dragged him along into some crazy scheme. Stupid old geezer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to admit, not sure I 100% have Robbie's characterization down, but I tried. Hope ya'll enjoy.


	91. The Alcor Fan Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> circesadventures asked for demons geeking out over Alcor. I mixed in a bit of [this prompt](http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/117823778228/theres-an-old-old-ask-way-back-early-blogwise) along with a question by DragonLady about other demons trying to woo Alcor.

 

It was a fact well established that demons couldn't stand to be in each others' company.

 

Oh, if there was something to be gained from it they could manage for a time, sometimes even manage to be civil about it, very rarely form a temporary alliance, but there had to be a pretty significant reward for it.

 

That didn't mean they didn't keep up with each other. And it didn't mean they couldn't, on occasion, be utterly fascinated by one of their own.

 

In this case, Alcor the Dreambender, the Twin Star, the former human who had turned demon, something that should have been impossible but had happened despite that.

 

By all rights, he should have gone mad by now. A human mind wasn't meant to endure demonic powers, demonic thought patterns. The two natures in competition should have torn him apart.

 

That he hadn't was enough to gather attention by itself, if only modest, passing curiosity. He would be dead soon enough, no point in watching unless one wanted to view the implosion from a front row seat.

 

But then he began winning fights with demons whose curiosity led them to try and take his territory, feed off his power, or interfere with the people he cared about.

 

Minor demons, mostly, but other demons nonetheless, sometimes demons who had just been given sacrifices, who should have been more powerful in that moment than he was.

 

Then came the fight against Afardow the Prideful.

 

And the fight against Zadkiel the Merciful.

 

And the Scouring.

 

California.

 

Power like that was something to pay attention to.

 

Generally, from a nice, long distance, even if one had a good deal of power oneself. No sense in taking risk without a prospect of reward, after all.

 

But something to watch nevertheless.

 

 

A trait all demons shared, no matter what their other differences, was a weakness towards obsession. Whether if was for a plan, for a language, sometimes for the most ridiculous or petty thing, they all had one.

 

There were times when they would have multiple obsessions, a trait some of them developed out of self preservation, so that when one obsession ended or there was no more of it to be had, they had something to fall back on.

 

It was rare, but not unheard of, for something alive to be the focus of that obsession. Usually a species rather than a singular entity, as that entity would only last an eyeblink to the older demons, but it wasn't unheard of for a passing obsession to focus on an unfortunate soul.

 

Said unfortunate soul usually didn't last very long with that obsession focused on them. Especially a human soul, which made the rarity of such an obsession a good thing for humanity.

 

It was even rarer for a demon to become obsessed with another demon.

 

But then again, no human had successfully made the transition from human to demon before, either.

 

Was it any wonder, then, what happened?

 

 

It started small, as these things usually did.

 

Rumors passed around at the Midway Bar, of the demon-turned-human and what he had achieved already in his short life.

 

Stories passed around where a demon would overhear, of things that would interest a demon, though the teller intended neither.

 

Messages passed among nightmares that demons would force them to tell them.

 

The rumbles throughout the mindscape when a demon was killed, and the stories that said who was responsible.

 

And some demons started to pay attention not to the power, but to the demon wielding it.

 

 

It was a foolish, careless, or overly proud demon that let the object of their obsession know it was observed until they were good and trapped, at the obsessive demon's mercy – especially if said object was powerful.

 

Which was why so much of the observation of Alcor was done from the mindscape, through spells, or from a safe distance – safe, in this case, being as far away as possible while still able to see by whatever means were at hand.

 

The spells were risky, as Alcor did not take kindly to people spying on him or his family, and had the clout even at this young age to trace most spells for viewing back to their source if the observer didn't notice in time that the tables were turned and destroy their spell before Alcor could follow it back to them.

 

But coming close was even riskier, and only a demon too proud to believe themselves in danger or that Alcor would sense them.

 

 

Esehex the Sly started the worst of it.

 

They waited until Alcor had been summoned, until the meatsacks he claimed as his, that he protected with all the ferocity of a true demon, were all away. It had taken time, but word had finally gotten around that Alcor was at his fiercest when these particular meatsacks were threatened.

 

But at the moment, none of them were in the physical space that they lived in, that Alcor claimed as his home in the physical world.

 

So Esehex took their chance to sneak into the mindscape that corresponded to that part of the mortal world, to search that building for something, they weren't sure what. They couldn't go corporeal, but in their incorporeal form they snuck into the building, through a tiny crack in defenses worn and needing repair, drifting past the workroom where the equipment for fixing the defenses sat ready, and they shuddered at how close they had come to being locked out, at seeing all of those things laid ready.

 

Throughout the building they searched, knowing each moment they stayed was one closer to Alcor noticing their presence when he returned, a degree closer to him knowing they had been there at any point.

 

But they found it, their prize, up in the attic, in a box that had Alcor's scent all over it.

 

They did not dare much, and it took all their strength to manipulate something on the physical plane, but they snuck a trinket, a tiny thing, from the box and stole it, ran with it back to the Mindscape.

 

A small thing, it was, one that had been Alcor's but was not enough his that he was connected to it, not enough his that it was connected to him and could be used to touch him, yet had still once belonged to the Dreambender.

 

Esehex placed it in a place of honor, a focus of the small shrine they built for their obsessions, this newest gaining a shrine of its own in the section of their mindscape they devoted to their shrines.

 

The next time they met the demons they could, in some way, refer to as 'friends' while at the Midway Bar, Esehex bragged about their success.

 

They scoffed and didn't believe Esehex, and things would have gotten heated had it not been the Midway Bar, and none of them wanted kicked out or banned.

 

So Esehex instead drew promises of good behavior from them and took them to a neutral section of the mindscape before disappearing back into their own territory, coming back with their prize in tow.

 

The scent of powerful demon was intoxicating when the demon itself was not near to threaten them, and the group settled in to smell and discuss, thus beginning the unofficial first meeting of the The Forgotten Ones, a name chosen in reference to Alcor's name and the title of the star he had had named himself for – and as a hope that he would either not notice or forget their existence, should he discover their obsession.

 

Esehex and the three demons they could stand were not the only ones fascinated with, repelled by, or somehow obsessed with Alcor, with his power, with the sheer impossibility of his existence.

 

So the The Forgotten Ones grew, in the way of demons – that is, being discussed when two of the members crossed paths, and with the occasional meeting when Alcor did something of note. Short meetings, where they focused on their observations and generalized fanning over Alcor – that only occasionally dissolved into a fight.

 

Amazingly.

 

And one of the first decisions that the club made was that no one was to go to Gravity Falls.

 

Alcor was...protective of his hometown, to say the least.

 

And the humans that lived there didn't back down just because their opponent was a demon, if said demon tried anything. Especially not the ones who hung around the Pines family that Alcor seemed to have claimed as his own people.

 

It didn't help the The Forgotten Ones that the small, dark haired one had a weapons shop filled with things that could not possibly be legal, and a strong desire to test them out.

 

Especially on things that couldn't be taken down with normal means.

 

 

Of course, these being demons, they couldn't keep things low key, and as for obeying rules...well, they were made to be bent at the least.

 

 

Mlusep the Curious was the first to break The Forgotten Ones rules and venture to Gravity Falls.

 

They watched Alcor from close by, inside the Mindscape, following as he went about his day in Gravity Falls, though they did have enough self preservation left to stop following him when he went into the Stanley Pines Memorial Library.

 

Besides, that place had enough wards on it to stop a much more powerful demon than Mlusep from entering, alongside Alcor's power backing them up.

 

So they watched, and took notes on what Alcor did, wondering if those were the key to greater power, ease of access to the physical world, of if only Alcor would ever be able to do these things.

 

They knew it was only a matter of time before Alcor noticed he was being watched, but it was worth it for the close up view, this chance to study Alcor when he believed himself unobserved.

 

Not that Mlusep was learning much about Alcor's powers, save that he was extra protective of the redheaded meat sacks, plus the female meat sack that looked a bit similar to him and the older one that hung around the rest of them.

 

Though why Alcor chose to spend his time with such short lived creatures eluded Mlusep. They didn't seem to provide any benefit that Mlusep could see, save for quick deals, including ones to stay on the physical realm, but with Alcor's power, it wouldn't be that much longer before he could do it without these paltry offerings, so why bother with them now? Of course, a deal was still a deal, but some of these seemed far too one-sided in the meat sack's favor.

 

...unless he was making them believe he was safe so he would be able to consume them easier later! Oh, what a brilliant plan! A bit long in the making, but brilliant!

 

They were already learning so much!

 

Of course, it didn't last, and Mlusep had to flee to the Mindscape a few hours later as Alcor began to sniff around the town, looking about suspiciously.

 

That was a close one.

 

 

“Did you hear?” an amorphous mass of gases that continuously changed colors as multiple eyes in a dozen shapes and species and colors blinked into and out of existance around their 'body', asked in a voice that would cause mortal ears to bleed. “Alcor fought N'yurb'gl'gl'fnrk, at one of their own summonses no less! N'yurb'gl'gl'fnrk had just gotten a full calf as a sacrifice, too!”

 

“I heard N'yurb'gl'gl'fnrk was being offered a 'school bus' full of mortal children,” another replied, the marks around the odd word mortals used dropped into place with quotes that were the audible equivalent of dainty claws around a strange, slightly distasteful morsel, albeit one with a delicious center. “So many young, tender offerings!”

 

“But 'tis Alcor!” a third reminded the rest. “He has that oddness about the mortal children. Likely why he fought N'yurb'gl'gl'fnrk at all.”

 

“If he does, he can have that oddness as long as he wants, so long as it makes him fight like that,” the first sighed, a sound that could flay a mortal mind to shreds. “Such ferocity! Such bloodlust! And all for the sake of mortal meatsacks that don't enjoy or appreciate it!”

 

“He's young yet, he may grow out of it.”

 

“So young, but so powerful already. Just imagine the chaos he'll create in a few hundred years, let alone a few thousand!”

 

 

“He just keeps getting stronger.”

 

“I know, he's still so young...do you think it's because of his...unusual breeding?”

 

“Being a human turned demon abomination, you mean?”

 

“That abomination could kick your ass and you know it.”

 

“I _know_. Ugh, the potential chaos he's wasting, playing nice with those meat sacks...”

 

“I heard Mlusep was able to spy on him for awhile, maybe he has some clues why he does it...I wonder if it's why that creature is so strong.”

 

“Maybe we should find out.”

 

 

Since Alcor seemed to be the most enamored with the smallest meat sacks, the ones that were easiest to trick, whose flesh was the sweetest and whose souls like candy, so full of potential, while the biggest meat sacks, the adults, had souls more akin to a well seasoned gourmet meal, then of course the The Forgotten Ones took a bit of an interest.

 

But he never _did_ anything with them. Just spoke to them kindly and gently, and humored their deals, and didn't twist their words as it was so easy to do when they were so young.

 

It didn't make any kind of sense, though a few of them gave it a try.

 

Somehow, they just couldn't seem to create the same sort of rapport with the little ones that Alcor did. They always seemed to give themselves away, sooner or later.

 

Though a couple of them did get a few tasty treats out of it, and quite a few kids blindly followed where they lead.

 

When Alcor found out, he was...less than pleased.

 

And suddenly, the Alcor Fan Club was down a few members.

 

Such was the danger of obsessing over one of their own kind. The rest of the members shrugged and moved on.

 

If nothing else, it would be less competition for Alcor's attention.

 

But for now, they would leave the children be, unless directly offered to them. It wasn't worth Alcor's wrath at the moment.

 

 

Kelial had a simple obsession, a simple dream appropriate for the most powerful concubus the world had known.

 

To have sex with at least one member of every sapient species on Earth.

 

And Alcor was proving exceedingly stubborn.

 

As a human-turned-demon, and the only one of his kind, he did not fall under the 'demon' category, nor the 'human', so in order to fulfill his dream, Kelial would need to find some way to seduce one who was uninterested in carnal lusts.

 

Of course, most demons were, but Alcor took it farther than most.

 

Which was why Kelial the Ever Hungry, Lord of Unwanted Pleasure, was now a member of the The Forgotten Ones; as a means to an end, to see what others had learned of this demon, to let others do the spying and the work for them, to learn more than they could on their own, but the other members were less helpful than Kelial had hoped they would be.

 

Of course, per The Forgotten Ones rules and their own sense of self preservation, Kelial  _was_ mostly staying out of Gravity Falls, which made seduction more difficult, but surely even someone as oblivious as Alcor would eventually recognize the overtures Kelial had been making.

 

Leaving gifts for potential partners was a human ritual as well as demonic, wasn't it? The gifts were different but the final intent was the same, right?

 

But Alcor continuously, stubbornly, ignored half the gifts, was suspicious of and destroyed the more demonic ones, and that human he still dared to call 'sister' claimed the human like ones, thinking  _her_ romantic paramours had left them.

 

A lessor demon, left flayed and gutted, with ancient glyphs declaring it a gift in honor of Alcor's power and hinting at overtures for ally-ship and hopefully one day creating a new demon?

 

Eyed with suspicion and destroyed with fire, and a suspicious Alcor roaming his territory for a week.

 

Flowers were traditional for human courting, and since demons could understand any language they put their mind to, they seemed like a good idea. Casual, innocent yet seductive – and deniable.

 

So a full bouquet of acaia for secret admiration, surrounded by mauve carnations for fantasy, corianders for feelings of lust, and coral and orange roses to symbolize passion and desire, left where Alcor was sure to find it?

 

Burned and replaced with mushrooms, for disgust.

 

Alcor liked children, right? One of the first things one learned about Alcor in the The Forgotten Ones was his feelings towards the little creatures, how he protected them instead of eating their delicious little lives, so full of potential.

 

So when Kelial was summoned by a group that was willing to, had in the past, sacrificed children, well...why not leave their remains as an offering?

 

Alcor...did not appreciate the gesture.

 

Chocolates?

 

Eaten, incredibly enough...but shared with that human 'sister' of his, once Alcor had decided they were safe for her to eat. It wasn't a romantic gift if it was shared!

 

Jewelry was a popular romantic gift, so Kelial left a set of body jewelry – collar and belt to drape around the neck and waist and chains to connect both, more chains to drape over the shoulders connected to the collar, and ones to drape over wings, in solid gold, to compliment Alcor's chosen colors, ones that would look stunning on the demon whether clothed or not.

 

Given to the old man Alcor hung around with, and melted down for the gold.

 

Deciding they were being too subtle, Kelial left a box of sexual toys, only for the box to be discarded in the forest, a bit dirty and damaged from being hurled away from Alcor with great force.

 

It was like he didn't pick up on the innuendo at all! Again and again and again the gifts were rebuffed or given away, until Kelial had to spread them out farther or risk irritating Alcor into action.

 

How was Kelial supposed to seduce someone who had no idea they were even being seduced? Or when they couldn't come within a ten mile radius of them?

 

How could anyone be that blind to something so obvious?

 

What kind of humans was that 'sister' of Alcor dating, that she would think a demonic courting gift was meant for her?

 

Kelial was going to have to regroup and step up their game.

 

And perhaps rethink a few of their life choices.

 

But they were going to stay far away from Mizar. Somehow, the looks Alcor gave his gifts made him worry for his life (and...other things) if they attempted to seduce her.

 

 

For some reason, Alcor collected nightmares. And not just nightmares, but dreams as well.

 

For an average demon – really, for basically any demon save Alcor – nightmares just sort of...congregated in their territory.

 

For the most part they were ignored unless the demon needed minions to do their work, or a quick snack while they were too injured or exhausted or lazy to leave their territory.

 

And dreams...well, they were a passing snack at best. Faint and weak, a demon wouldn't give one a passing glance unless they were hungrier or lazier than usual.

 

But Alcor collected them. They bragged about his treatment of them. His nightmares had names, had personalities, were given liberties with his person and with their behavior.

 

It was baffling. What possible benefits could Alcor see from treating his nightmares as such? For collecting dreams? He didn't eat them, they didn't bring him power – if anything, they were an expense of power, to keep his territory safe for them, to feed them, to protect them.

 

A few of the demons in the The Forgotten Ones tried collecting some dreams of their own, to give it a try.

 

The dreams were weak little things, and without protection, either died at the claws and teeth of the nightmares that roamed their territories or faded away for lack of care.

 

No, there didn't seem to be any benefit to keeping them around at all. Not even some kind of power benefit, like being able to siphon energy away from them.

 

Even the nightmares were barely worth the work it took to keep them around. So why Alcor bothered with any of them, they still couldn't understand.

 

 

For a few years, there was an uptick in demonic activity centered around following humans, trying to interact with their day to day lives.

 

The trend died down as quickly as it had begun, leaving demonologists the world over baffled as to what caused it. But that was demons for you – unless it was something they were obsessive over, unless it gave them results quickly, most didn't have the patience for long term plans.

 

Every so often, a demon would try, but they could never seem to replicate whatever it was Alcor was doing with the humans.

 

It was incomprehensible to them, even as some of them tried again and again.

 

 

Membership in the The Forgotten Ones waxed and waned as the time passed, as members did things to bring themselves to Alcor's attention and were killed, or tried something he had done and grew disgusted when it didn't result in the actions they expected, or Alcor did something new that drew attention and (sometimes begrudging) admiration and interest.

 

But so long as they remembered what he had once been, as he gained power, the The Forgotten Ones never truly disbanded until there were no demons left to wonder and obsess over anything save Alcor himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit early today as my internet it being...unreliable.


	92. A Demon and A Demon Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I asked for suggestions for these two pics I whipped up in a doll maker: [ the first](https://68.media.tumblr.com/08a61fb5192f06cf1671a90451801a3b/tumblr_inline_okq14pntHP1r2dpvm_540.jpg) and [ the second](https://68.media.tumblr.com/b103a7c503171574a9c12ca6a516acdd/tumblr_inline_okq14pRnii1r2dpvm_540.png).
> 
> and received: alcor-the-dreamweaver: Even more snappily dressed than usual Alcor is tracked down by a demon hunter while pretending to be human then proceeds to attack said demon hunter.
> 
> nevergonnalookdown: Alcor is found be a demon hunter, after killing a cult. She attacks him. He realizes it's Mizar. So he says "I'd kill you if it wasn't you. She thinks he's flirting. Awkward moment ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mercy's sister, Sincerity, is a Stan reincarnation. Just a little aside there.
> 
> It may not be clear, but I'm using the pics as inspiration and therefore setting this in the far future, after humanity has had at least one 'apocalypse event'. Hence the vaguely Victorian outfits/setting.

Mercy Blakemore had been low key following Tyrone Sapling for months.

 

It might have been easier if she'd had some of the equipment she'd heard demon hunters of old had access to, but, with technology the way it was...she'd take what she could get.

 

As it stood, she still did have better equipment than most other demon hunters, thanks to her family's legacy of hunting. A legacy that meant they had been doing this for generations, had the summonings and the spells and the weapons to fight the strongest of demons.

 

Demons and their ilk had been a scourge upon humanity ever since the Transcendence, the apocalypse that had been lost to history, but her family was going to be the one to decrease their numbers, to eradicate them from the earth.

 

As for Sapling, he'd been around for awhile, no one could quite say for how long, part of the social circle Mercy's family moved in, always impeccably dressed and with cutting repartee sharp on his tongue, a glint to his eyes as if he knew things humans didn't, as if he were watching them all for his own amusement.

 

There wasn't any one particular thing that set Mercy's internal radar buzzing, but a dozen tiny things, little moments where it seemed like Tyrone's humanity was a mask for something darker, something more powerful, hiding just below the surface and waiting to pounce.

 

Admittedly, in the circles Mercy and her family often traveled in, such things were not always so uncommon. Cutthroat politics and people who smiled as they lied to your face only made Mercy happier she had chosen the demon hunting path, unlike her sister, who worked the circles for funds and information.

 

So Mercy couldn't say just what it was about Tyrone Sapling that set her to watching him, but she'd caught him watching her more than once, out of the corner of his eye, never anything she could prove...and it was never the sort of looks that made her want to haul off and punch the watcher. She'd had enough of those to know the difference.

 

No, it just...unnerved her. Something was off about Tyrone Sapling, and she wanted to know what, but nothing she tried was getting her any results, and she was getting frustrated. Enough so that she set to her sister to find out all the gossip a determined flirt like Sincerity could find out.

 

And while usually, Sincerity could find out anything about anyone, this time...she was coming up short.

 

“It's the most frustrating thing, darling,” she said, pouring out a cup of tea for her sister. “It's as if the man just appeared out of thin air one day. Everyone repeats his repartee as if it were the wittiest thing they'd ever heard, and it is gold, darling, but he never says anything about himself, not even the slightest hint. Why, no one even knows where he lives! It's impossible to get a straight answer out of the man.”

 

“I swear I've seen him watching me,” Mercy said, finally confessing it to her sister, something she hadn't wanted to admit to anyone else. No weaknesses were allowed in their family.

 

It was something she had battled her whole life. Her love of glitz and color was considered a distraction in the field, her preferred method of fighting too flamboyant, her joy in chaos too like the demons they fought.

 

“Well, you do sparkle, darling,” Sincerity said reasonably, “Despite these dull clothes they make us wear. Ugh, I know we're a family of demon hunters, but really. There's no showmanship at all. I only get away with what I can by being the distraction.”

 

“It's not a flirty watching,” Mercy said sourly. “I'm not sure what he's thinking, but it's getting to me.”

 

“Maybe he's hoping you'll bait him again,” Sincerity suggested.

 

Mercy snorted, but couldn't stop the grin that spread across her face. She had traded barbs and repartee with Sapling more than once, and he, at least, could keep up with her, and it was odd, but she felt like he really did enjoy dueling words with her.

 

And as much as she hated to admit it, she enjoyed their banter too.

 

“Baiting him hasn't helped,” Mercy complained. “It's fun, but he never says anything really useful. Oh, I've gotten looks out of him that says he let something slip, but it never makes any sense. The man is infuriating!”

 

“Am I hearing the beginnings of a crush?” Sincerity teased, before adding, “Oh, don't look at me like that, darling. I know that's not how it works. But you do have a bit of an infatuation with getting to the bottom of his mystery. Too bad for our parents it's not his physical bottom you're interested in.”

 

“I'll keep an eye on him. After all, I never said _I_ didn't have an interest in that firm bottom of his,” Sincerity promised when Mercy didn't respond, only glaring mildly at the teasing. She fluttered her eyes to make her sister laugh, dodging the weak slap at her arm she received in return. “I've got this.”

 

 

It seemed there was one thing in this world that could fluster Tyrone Sapling, Mercy noticed with a great deal of amusement from where she lurked in the shadow of a pillar, and that was Sincerity on a mission. Sincerity on a _flirting_ mission, to be precise.

 

It was odd, Mercy thought as she took a sip of her drink – she hadn't seen Sapling flustered when the other women flirted with him...or anyone of any other gender, come to think of it.

 

At least something was entertaining at this soiree. Last time Mercy tried to liven things up, she was in trouble for months over it.

 

'A Blakemore must always be on their guard,' the lecture had run. 'There is no time for these frivolities.'

 

So Mercy was taking entertainment where she could, until she could prove she didn't need the family name anymore and could do this without their aid – or interference.

 

Then she was going to start doing things her way.

 

But for now, sitting back and watching her sister try – unsuccessfully – to flirt with the mysterious Tyrone Sapling was highly entertaining.

 

Especially as her sister was a very accomplished flirt, and this may have been the first time her target had been resistant to her tricks.

 

And, if Mercy were being honest with herself, watching her sister grow more frustrated with Tyrone was almost, possibly just as, entertaining as watching Tyrone's reactions to Sincerity's persistence.

 

Somehow, Tyrone extracted himself from the situation, bowing out somewhat gracefully and beating a quick exit, and Mercy slumped against the wall behind her. Entertainment was over for the evening, it seemed, unless she wanted to try following him.

 

And when Mercy saw one of her more persistent suitors begin to make a beeline towards her, she decided that whatever Tyrone was up to was far better than dealing with that and made a hasty retreat of her own.

 

 

Mercy had to give Sapling this – he was fast. He'd barely had a minute, if that, before she had followed him, yet she still had to find him.

 

This building wasn't that big, she shouldn't be having so much trouble finding him!

 

The small, locket like device hanging around her neck, disguised as a blue pendant, began to glow, the magic within detecting demonic energy. It was one reason she wore it constantly – the other was that it was the only jewelry she could get away with wearing on a constant basis, for now at least, until she was established on her own and could break away from her family's rules.

 

Mercy cursed, quietly but intensely and creatively – another habit her family disapproved of – and began to follow the light. Bloody Sapling was going to have to wait.

 

The light directed Mercy to a door at the end of the hall, and she burst through, hand slipping through the slit in her skirts to the knife concealed there.

 

And across the room, Tyrone Sapling jumped like a startled cat, some sort of blue fire dissipating from around his hands.

 

“Mercy!” he squeaked, and inwardly Mercy did a victory dance at finally, finally managing to surprise Sapling, to get a reaction out of him other than amusement. “How did you...what are you...”

 

“What are you doing, is the better question, mister,” Mercy said. Tyrone sniffed, adjusting a glove.

 

“Why, fleeing your darling sister, what else?” he replied, looking at Mercy out of the corner of his eye from under his bangs. “She is a persistent one, isn't she. Quite easy to believe you two are related.”

 

Oh, so that was how he was going to be, hm? Mercy glanced down at her necklace, but it was back to the barely visible baseline glow it sometimes took around Tyrone. Enough to say there was some kind of demonic energy around, not enough to definitively point at Tyrone and claim him as some kind of demon worshiper.

 

Not that Mercy would believe that without direct proof, anyway. Tyrone Sapling struck her as the sort to obsess over things, but not the kind to worship anyone except maybe himself.

 

Okay, she might be being a little harsh, but Tyrone still seemed to have an ego that could lay waste to a large city.

 

It seemed whatever that blue fire was that had lit up Tyrone's hand either wasn't demonic, or had been weak enough her necklace wasn't detecting its residual energy now that it was gone.

 

“I suppose Sincerity and I do have a few things in common,” Mercy said, and the tilt of his head said Tyrone had gotten the hit quite well.

 

“Shall we return to the main party?” he asked, offering Mercy his arm. She considered protesting, demanding he tell her what he'd been doing here, but there was a glint to his eyes that promised more evasive answers.

 

At least she'd gotten that one moment out of him. In this ongoing duel, it was a palpable win, and they both knew it.

 

 

The fact that Mercy only seemed to see Tyrone Sapling at various soirees and parties had her curious.

 

The little investigating she had been able to do – because Tyrone was human, or at least appeared to be, and she had no proof there was a good reason to investigate, so it all had to be done at her own time, as her family (save Sincerity) didn't see why she wasted time on him – said that no one knew where he lived, if he had income, if he really was human, anything.

 

It was as if he appeared for the parties and then disappeared.

 

 

A month after that, and Mercy found herself standing outside a house on the edge of town, one that, apparently, had recently come into the possession of one Tyrone Sapling.

 

It was a nice enough house, she supposed. Plenty big enough for a bachelor, though she had to wonder about the location. She might have brushed it off as another strange thing about Tyrone Sapling, if there hadn't been that momentary hit of demon power picked up by her necklace at the last soiree.

 

Mercy considered going in and investigating the grounds around the house at the least, up until the point when her necklace again began to faintly glow and a large black dog wandered around the corner of the house.

 

The closer it got, the bigger it revealed itself to be, until Mercy questioned if it really was a dog at all. But it was huge, and shaggy, and there was no way she was prepared to deal with that right now.

 

The dog looked at her with far too much intelligence in its eyes and far too many teeth and woofed lowly, a deep, guttural sound, and Mercy decided to beat a somewhat undignified retreat before it decided it didn't like her being so close to it's owners home.

 

As Mercy put distance between herself and the dog the necklace's glow died back down and she swore she was going to find out what was going on with Tyrone Sapling – and she was definitely not telling any of her family about this.

 

They would just try to take over, or mock her for running. No, finding out what was going on with Tyrone was her project, and she was going to do it herself.

 

No matter how long it took.

 

 

Tyrone kept slipping up. Mercy could tell he was slipping up, that something wasn't human about him, but she couldn't tell just what was going on with that man. None of his slip ups made sense that she could puzzle out.

 

She suspected possession or some kind of demon worship, but there was never anything definite, no jewelry that belonged to a cult – stars didn't belong to anyone in particular, not plain gold ones like the ones Sapling sported as his jewelry – no behavior that matched possession. At least, not exactly matching possession, he acted oddly enough at times but it didn't match up as someone who wasn't used to being in a physical form the way possession usually indicated.

 

Or at least, he wasn't acting the way any possession victims Mercy had dealt with had acted, or any she had read about.

 

If she could only just catch him with something! Her family liked to jump to conclusions, and she knew quite well she had a tendency to do the same, so Mercy was watching herself this time, not willing to falsely accuse someone, even someone as strange as Tyrone Sapling.

 

And against her better judgment, Mercy found herself...kind of liking him. As if he could be a friend.

 

The jerk.

 

 

Mercy tugged on her gloves again and hoped she had gotten all the blood off her hands. If she ruined another pair of gloves...why did that demon have to be so difficult, it wasn't even that powerful!

 

Of course, the fresh sacrifice probably helped with that. On the other hand, she had noticed that it had hesitated before striking at her, giving Mercy plenty of time to get a good hit.

 

The thing had seemed on edge, as if it were being watched. Mercy had noticed that seemed to happen quite a bit when she was the one hunting – demons would try not to strike at her, or would outright flee the scene when she got there, unless they were feeling extra powerful.

 

It was a good thing for a Hunter, sure, but Mercy didn't want to depend on it. Depend on that sort of magic, one that you had no spell for, that you'd never cast, and it was certain to abandon you when you most needed it.

 

Mercy hadn't gotten enough time to clean up after breaking up this latest cult before this party, another her parents swore she needed to attend.

 

She'd changed her dress and the more bloodstained clothing, but she was pretty sure at this point there was still blood on her somewhere that she'd missed.

 

And Mercy was also pretty sure she knew why her parents had wanted her at this party after she'd seen Grayson across the room, another reason she was hiding in this alcove checking her gloves. Her parents and Grayson both seemed sure the two of them should wed and consolidate their hunting families, but he made Mercy's skin crawl. She'd tried being nice and making it clear she had no interest in marrying him, but he was persistent, and with her parent's approval to back him up...

 

“Having a bit of a problem there?” Tyrone asked, and Mercy jumped, cursing herself for not noticing him before. “You, ah, missed a spot,” he added, tapping his cheek and offering his handkerchief when Mercy cursed under her breath and began searching for one.

 

“I suppose you'd never do something so crass,” Mercy remarked bitterly as she folded the handkerchief, intending to stow it away to wash and return later.

 

To her surprise, Tyrone took it back without comment on the blood staining it, smiling. “I've just learned to clean more thoroughly afterward,” he said.

 

Mercy blinked for a second before grinning back. Okay, maybe Tyrone Sapling had something demonic going on, but right now, it looked like she'd finally found an actual conversational partner at one of these parties, since livening it up would just get her in trouble.

 

“Have you now?” she said. “I'd think you'd worry too much about staining your suit to get involved in such things.”

 

“We all have to make sacrifices,” Tyrone said. “Speaking of which, here comes Grayson.”

 

“Ugh. Don't go, maybe if you're here he'll keep his hands to himself this time,” Mercy said.

 

Tyrone's eyes flashed, and for a moment Mercy wasn't sure if it had been a trick of the light or something else. “Oh, really?” he snarled, and she was taken aback by the rage in his voice.

 

“Well I broke his hand last time he tried something, but maybe with an audience I won't have to this time,” she said.

 

“Well done, sorry I missed it,” Tyrone said with a grin.

 

“Mercy! There you are!” Grayson said with a huge grin as he stopped in front of them. He took Mercy's hand and pressed a kiss to it, giving a little bow as he did. “And look who you have with you! The elusive Tyrone Sapling!”

 

He repeated the hand kiss to Tyrone, to Mercy's mild amusement, making sweet eyes up at Tyrone over his fingers and lingering over the kiss, thumb stroking over the back of Tyrone's gloved hand, shamelessly flirting with both.

 

“Why, what a team you two make, in looks and in skills,” Grayson continued. “The only way it could be better would be if it were a trio, if you catch my drift.”

 

“I'm sure we'll keep that in mind, should we decide to work together,” Tyrone said before Mercy could retort, pulling on his hand until Grayson finally released it.

 

The small talk continued from there, with Grayson making several more overtures, more respectful than usual, and Mercy had a feeling it was as much her reaction from last time as Tyrone's presence that kept him polite.

 

Still, she again had the feeling that Tyrone was playing with them, only this time, she was included in the game, and on his team.

 

It was a surprisingly nice feeling.

 

 

That party had been the first time Mercy and Tyrone had actually had a decent conversation, one that didn't consist of solely of barbing each other and, even if they both had apparently enjoyed the wordplay of baiting each other, Mercy rather enjoyed the regular conversation interspersed with little jabs.

 

That party was the first time, but it wasn't the last. And then somehow, after the third party, Mercy found herself coming across Tyrone more and more often, and not at parties. At random, it seemed, as she couldn't remember seeing him out and about before this.

 

On the one hand, it was strange, maybe even a little creepy. On the other...well, there was no reason for Tyrone not to visit a tea shop or a park or any other place Mercy met him, and he wasn't pushing himself on her, and it was rather nice to talk to someone outside the family who seemed to understand about hunting...

 

 

But, friends or not, Mercy still noticed how Tyrone seemed to treat interactions with everyone else as some sort of game, and still wondered just what he was hiding.

 

 

So things continued, and would have remained in such a way for much longer, until Mercy noticed Tyrone hurrying out of a party she was about to join, down into the depths of the mansion, and hastened to follow.

 

Because, for as much of a dork as she'd found Tyrone could be when they weren't in public, how utterly goofy he could be when he was comfortable with you, she had yet to see him break that mask while in public.

 

And Tyrone hurrying off was still something to follow, as she still had her suspicions about him.

 

 

Mercy turned the corner Tyrone had passed moments before and stopped short.

 

He had barely had a lead on her, yet he was gone, and this time, there were no convenient rooms for him to be hiding in.

 

Frowning, Mercy fumbled for her necklace, examining it. It was glowing, but faintly – so demonic activity in the building, but not nearby.

 

Following instinct, Mercy headed for the basement, finding it with the skill of one taught to find hidden doors. For some reason, summonings always seemed to happen in basements or abandoned buildings. Sometimes both.

 

She passed down floor after floor, counting them in the back of her mind, surprised at just how many there were.

 

Something had to be up in a place with this many basements.

 

Several of the doors Mercy passed through were hidden, even this far below the house, and it took her time she didn't have to find them and keep going, but her amulet kept getting brighter the farther down she went.

 

Mercy paused outside what must have been the last door, as light glowed around the edges and she could hear chanting from beyond it.

 

This had to be it.

 

Mercy edged up to the door, sliding the portable crossbow out of the holster she kept hidden under her cloak, glad she hadn't entered the party proper yet and therefore hadn't had to surrender her weapons.

 

Her silver knife was at her side, and she checked its presence before she drew a magic-tipped arrow as quietly as possible, cocking the crossbow as the chanting came to a crescendo and paused for a pregnant silence before a new, inhuman voice rang out.

 

“W̶̸̕h̴̢o͡ d͘ar̕҉e̕s ҉s̵͜͢u͟m̴̡mo͜n Al͢c̕o̴͢͞r͘͏ ҉̡tḩ͏e͘ D̶̷̸r̴͟eam̧̕b̵̧e̷̕n̸̵ḑ̴e͝҉r̴̴?̛”

 

Silently, Mercy ran through a litany of curses. Of all the demons, they had to be summoning the Dreambender? The best she could hope to do was get him to leave, no one could really fight the Dreambender, he was grossly overpowered!

 

Her internal monologue had made her miss some of the talking from inside, up until she heard that demonic voice speak again.

 

“L̢e͠t me̵ get t̶his stra̶ig͞ht҉.̸ Yo͡u in͢v̕ited͢ e͏v͞ery͘ p͟er͘son ̕w̴h̶o ̶came t̶o ̶this par̵t͏y as̸ a̕n of̧fering ̧to me, to ҉do̧ ̨a̕s I̵ wish ̴wi͠th͡ ͡as͟ ̶m͞a̶n͟y of͢ the̸m ͏a̡s ͡I ̛w͝a̴nt,͘ in̶ ͘e̛xcha̡nģe f͝or.͞.̸.?̕ ”

 

“Power,” a human voice replied hungrily, and Mercy silently snarled as she recognized the voice of the party's host. “Power both mundane and magical. The ability to control others and bend them to my will, in exchange for all those who came to the party.”

 

Alcor chuckled and Mercy's blood froze. “Very well,” he said. “Shake my hand, and the deal is done.”

 

Mercy cursed again and slammed her shoulder into the door, only to be met with a door that wouldn't move, as solid as the wall around it.

 

And then, beyond the door, the screaming started.

 

 

Mercy wasted a few minutes pounding on the door, trying to find a way in, before she dug under her skirts for her pockets, pulling out a charm breaker and jamming it into the door.

 

She beat a quick retreat down the hall just before the breaker exploded, leaving the door in splinters.

 

Quickly she was through the remains of the door and stopped short, staring at the carnage.

 

There had been, she would assume, about five people here summoning Alcor. They were lying scattered on the floor, very obviously dead.

 

And a demon with the face of Tyrone Sapling was crouched over the host, his face covered in blood, smeared around his mouth.

 

The shock froze her for a few precious seconds before she reacted.

 

Mercy fired off a warning shot and the thing in Tyrone Sapling's shape jumped, just a little, before leisurely standing, wiping the blood off its chin with a still gloved hand as it did.

 

“No more games, Tyrone. I want answers, and I want them now,” she demanded. She fired a second shot, the magicked silver tip leaving a nasty, open wound along Tyrone's arm.

 

He gave a brief screech of pain and surprise, flinching and looking down at the wound in his arm in shock and inhuman fury.

 

There was a flash of motion and suddenly, a mouth full of serrated fangs was an inch from her face, a clawed hand around her throat.

 

“If it wasn't you, I'd kill you for that,” he hissed. For a second, Mercy felt cold terror creeping up her spine before his words registered.

 

“Is now really the time for flirting, Tyrone?” Mercy taunted with a smirk, knowing she was testing death but unable to stop herself. “You do care.”

 

It was worth it for the look that crossed his face.

 

Tyrone released her with a shudder, shoving her away. Mercy's foot slipped in something, she didn't want to see what, and she found Tyrone's hands on her again as he caught her just before she fell.

 

“That's not...I...ugh!” he said, and although most of her was reeling from finding Tyrone Sapling here, from the realization that this meant that Tyrone Sapling had been Alcor the Dreambender the whole time, or had been possessed by him, some small part of her was still enjoying watching him be at such a loss for words.

 

He'd already carefully set her back on her feet and released her, pacing back and forth across the bloody basement while tugging at the same fluffy brown hair that he had while human, though his feet didn't always make contact with the ground, and Mercy took the opportunity to look him over.

 

Same hair, same general body shape and structure as Tyrone Sapling. No obvious horns or tails, though a pair of dark, featherless wings fluttered at the small of his back. Black on gold eyes, pointed ears, fangs and claws completed the transformation from Tyrone to Alcor, and it was disturbing how close the two were in appearance yet Mercy had never realized they were one and the same. Unless...

 

“Spill,” she demanded again. “Without the flirting, this time. What are you? Is Tyrone Sapling possessed, or was he never real at all?”

 

Alcor paused, looking over at her, and she couldn't quite read the emotions going through his eyes.

 

A demon with emotions. Would wonders never cease.

 

“Will you actually believe me?” he asked. Mercy paused, tapping the crossbow against her leg as she considered.

 

“What'll it cost to have you tell me the truth?” she asked, silently panicking. She was a demon hunter, what was she doing making a deal with a demon, much less Alcor?

 

But he was also Tyrone...and she wanted to know if her best friend was still in there or if she needed to do something drastic.

 

“You believing me,” he answered, and she paused. That seemed...like a low price. An odd price. But...

 

“Fine. You swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but, and I'll believe you,” she said. Oh, she could hear her parents yelling even now, but...Tyrone was weird, and apparently demonic, but she trusted him.

 

“It's a deal,” he said, and Mercy would swear he relaxed fractionally. “Perhaps we could take this to another level of the cellar? This doesn't bother me anymore, but I can't imagine it's pleasant for you.”

 

“I thought you'd never ask,” Mercy said, holding out her hand daintily for him to escort her upstairs. “Aren't you going to clean up first?”

 

Tyrone blinked at her for a few seconds, and she tossed her head, staring him down. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he snapped his fingers, the blood disappearing off his face and body as if it had never stained him, and he offered his elbow, escorting her up the stairs as if they were entering a ballroom.

 

Mercy swept into the room, seating herself on a box as if it were a throne. “Okay. I'll trust you. So start talking with the tragic back story. Oh, but first...why the carnage downstairs?”

 

“You have no idea...” Tyrone muttered. “As for that...he said everyone at the party. He and his followers were at the party. I don't like it when people try to take away other's free will or bargain with lives that aren't theirs. As for the back story...”

 

Half an hour later, Mercy had the basic story and the beginnings of a headache.

 

And the beginnings of hope curling in her chest alongside a good dose of laughter.

 

A demon hunter with a demon brother. Her, the legendary Mizar.

 

Looked like she was going to be able to strike out on her own a lot sooner than expected.

 

Life just got a whole lot more interesting...and a whole lot more complicated.


	93. But What A Shame, The Poor Bride's Groom...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> is her brother. ;)
> 
> This continues directly from the end of chapter 78, A Demon and a Wedding, so it may be helpful to revisit it.
> 
> A refresher summary of A Demon and A Wedding: Dipper hadn't been paying much attention to Mizar's soul, as Willow's latest incarnation needed him at the moment, and he continually felt pride and contentment from Mizar. Then one day, he's summoned to a cult devoted to him and finds himself the unwilling groom for a wedding to reunite Alcor and Mizar. (No, they didn't get married.)

 

The church had cleared out rapidly after Dipper's instructions to “Go, party, celebrate. You did it, we're reunited. Now leave us alone to talk.”

 

The priest had been almost dragged out by two of his helpers, and Dipper could faintly hear him giving the occasional muddled protest or confused lament.

 

Dipper hoped there was booze at that party, because he had the feeling that priest could use a stiff drink. Preferably several.

 

Especially once he realized he'd been arguing with a demon, the demon he supposedly worshiped, had set up an entire church around, in particular.

 

A little part of Dipper was almost sad to miss it.

 

“So, um...you want to get out of that thing and talk?” he asked Mizar, who was much more important than the chaos going down in the party, no matter how attractive the chaos.

 

“I actually kinda like it,” Mizar answered, a little shyly, but Dipper figured she'd earned it. After all, she'd been raised to think she was supposed to be marrying him today, and found a brother instead, and now they had to talk to each other.

 

She gave a little spin, showing off the dress, and giggled. “I feel pretty,” she added. “Unless...unless it's making you uncomfortable?” she added, pausing in mid-spin.

 

“No, no, it's fine, you do look pretty,” Dipper said, scratching at the back of his head, floating hat moving out of the way of his hand.

 

An awkward silence fell over the hall until Dipper dropped down onto the stairs and Mizar dropped down to join him, giggling as her skirts fluffed up around her.

 

“So...” she said finally, pleating a bit of her skirt between her fingers, “I'm...your sister. It's...kind of a switch. Since I was supposed to get married today and all.”

 

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, still playing with the fabric of her skirt. “Actually...I don't really know that much about you, besides what I got told. You know, the lore and all? But if they were wrong about me being your destined wife...”

 

“Well I don't really know you either,” Dipper said, playfully protesting. “I mean, each lifetime is its own personality.”

 

The hall went silent again, as both looked at each other, considering.

 

This Mizar looked a bit like Mabel, with her brown hair and brown eyes, and it made the situation all that much more disturbing. It was bad enough when a Mizar thought they _had_ to have a romantic or physical relationship with him as it was, but when they looked so much like his original sister...Dipper suppressed a shudder.

 

He wondered just how many things he was going to have to talk her through during this lifetime, how many false assumptions and pure wrong legends he was going to have to work through to explain the truth.

 

At least she seemed pretty accepting of the whole 'sister, not wife' part.

 

...though, on consideration, with how quickly she seemed to be switching, he may have to talk to her about that later. He'd always felt pride coming from her, but now that he was able to sit and think about it, maybe she hadn't been so into this marriage as she'd seemed.

 

This was awkward.

 

 

Ten minutes later and the two were munching on a cheese ball and crackers Dipper had blipped over from the 'reception' and talking as they played with a pack of cards Dipper had found in his hat.

 

The cards were, surprisingly enough, not yet sentient, though Dipper had a feeling that Mizar was getting all the cards she needed from a pack that was just aware enough to play in her favor.

 

They hadn't managed to talk about anything really deep yet, just the easy, surface things, but it was still communication.

 

Mostly, it was just a moment to calm down. Let Dipper's headache calm from the offhand comments Mizar made that gave his first insights into living in this cult.

 

“Yeah, Father Zachariah has a spell that can let us see if our soul did something important, or, like, who we used to be,” she said casually, checking a card and discarding it, as if such a spell wasn't still a major piece of magical work. “So they figured out I was Mizar back when I was really little. They don't name kids until after they check, so it's always been my name. And I've always been treated special for it.”

 

Dipper took his turn, and Mizar paused to check her cards. “Special how?” Dipper prompted. “I mean, I usually got pride from you when I checked...c'mon, don't look at me like that! I only touched the surface!” he protested when Mizar looked at him oddly. “Just enough to make sure you were okay! You know, make sure you weren't being abused or anything! I never looked more than that, I remember a few things about privacy!”

 

Mizar kept looking at him oddly for a few more seconds before she shook her head, reaching for her next card. “Sorry, it's just...I used to be told I had to keep myself pure for you,” she paused as her newly found brother hurked, continuing after he'd recovered, “and that you were always watching, so I had to be sure I didn't do anything that would displease you.”

 

“...I'm a demon,” Dipper felt the need to point out as he played a card, still a bit disgusted. “That category is probably pretty broad.”

 

Mizar shrugged. “Not according to Father Zachariah, and his word is law. Around here, at least. But hey, I got a lot of special training the other kids didn't get. I can speak Latin like a pro, and I can fight – even Father Zachariah couldn't deny that a Mizar had to be able to fight. There's just too many stories of Mizars fighting by your side to deny it. And Magic, and oh, just...all kinds of things,” she finished, suddenly a little dodgy.

 

There were waves of discomfort at something she had remembered coming off Mizar, and Dipper was quick to change the subject.

 

“Well, the fighting might be useful,” he said. “I've been trying not to ask Mizars to do that sort of thing unless they're sure, though. It's dangerous, and...well, not all the wounds are physical, you know? It's...yeah, it's not easy, and there's things you can't prepare for. Um...oh! That reminds me...you probably shouldn't tell the rest of the...cult? Congregation? Ugh, I don't even know what your folks believe about me...about this, but...you've heard I take in kids sometimes, right? Like, I protect them? So...uh...you have a niece.”

 

“I do?” Mizar said, dropping her cards in surprise. “But...I thought...”

 

“She's not mine! I mean, I didn't...she's not...I rescued her!” Dipper said in a rush, the swirl of colors around Mizar telling him exactly where her mind had gone, dropping his own cards to wave his hands wildly in denial. “I've never had a kid, well I have but not like because I helped make one I don't I...agh no.”

 

Dipper buried his face in his hands and gave a little yell of frustration. “Okay. Yeah. Um. She's one of the souls I watch, okay?” he said, raising his head to look at Mizar through his bangs. “Not as closely as yours but I try. And she was in a really bad place. There was nobody else to take her in, so I did, so now you technically have a niece, okay? And I have no idea how all these people would react to that, so yeah.”

 

Mizar had calmed down a bit halfway through Dipper's frantic explanation, her colors reflecting a wide range of emotion.

 

Her eyes went wide, beginning to sparkle. “I have a  _ niece _ ?” she repeated, as if it were just now really sinking in. “I got a brother, and now I get a niece!”

 

Mizar leaned back in the billows of her wedding gown, paling. “I have a niece. And a brother. And I'm not getting married. I...guess it's all just finally getting to me.”

 

“Oh! Um. Crap. Um...here, have another cracker, that'll help right? Humans need food, you uh...have you eaten today? That's still a thing you need, oh thank goodness I have a kid right now,” Dipper babbled as he loaded up crackers with cheeseball for his sister, passing them over one at a time and almost overloading Mizar's hands with them.

 

Mizar giggled, a little wetly and a touch hysterically, but ate the crackers anyway. It had been awhile since the breakfast she hadn't been able to eat, thanks to nerves.

 

Dipper sat beside Mizar, waiting as she collected herself, careful not to touch. They'd just met, and he remembered how some Mizars reacted when he pushed too fast for that relationship he craved.

 

 

Finally, Mizar took a deep breath, working up a smile.

 

“Um...look, I could use my omniscience to find out how you all were worshiping me here, or figure out what they told you about me,” Dipper said, rubbing at the back of his head, “but to be honest, using it too much give me a headache. Or ends with the walls oozing blood or slime. And I'd rather hear it from your point of view anyway. And tell me what you were expecting? Like, for me to look like, or act like, or...or do, with all this wedding stuff going on? Maybe that would help us quit dropping these bombs on each other?”

 

Mizar blinked at Dipper for a second. “Uh, well, first off, we're told you always know what we're doing. Remember, I said they told me that you always saw what I was doing, so I had to be sure to always make you proud? So you'd accept me when today came?”

 

“That sort of thing's a lot of work,” Dipper said, trying not to whine. “I don't...I try not to spy too much on people, when I'm still me. It's creepy. I forget that sometimes.”

 

Unbidden he remembered Mizars yelling that at him before, and shuddered.

 

“I forget a lot of things I should remember, mostly about how to human.”

 

“Ah...right,” Mizar said. “Well, um...wow. It's really hard to think of how to explain it. It's just always been part of my life, yanno? Let's see...well, there's always a big sacrifice on holy days. Whenever someone asked why we didn't summon you we got the sermon about how we weren't supposed to bother you unless we had something big to offer, and we didn't have anything bigger than, well, me. And the sacrifices always disappeared in black smoke so we figured you were accepting them.”

 

“And, well...I guess Father Zachariah was going to ask for your blessings on things after the wedding,” Mizar continued, oblivious to her new brother's facepalm and irritation. “I'm not really sure, he was a bit vague.”

 

Of course he was. What bigger sacrifice could they come up with than his sister – or wife, in their eyes – on a silver platter and with their blessings? Not having to sneak around to meet each other, openly accepted by her family?

 

No wonder Father Zachariah thought this had been a good idea.

 

“Do I want to know what else?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“When can I meet my niece?” Mizar asked instead, changing the subject.

 

Dipper blinked for a few seconds. “Well, Pearl's dance class is this Saturday but she's free after,” he said. “I...could come get you? Tesser you over to meet her? That should give her time to get used to the idea.”

 

He'd find out the rest later. He usually did.

 

Hopefully, this time, it wouldn't explode in his face.

 

But Dipper didn't like that Mizar didn't feel comfortable talking to him about it.

 

“Mizar...would you be upset if I found out how your...congregation worshiped me on my own?” he asked. “I mean, not how they raised you in particular, that's yours, just in general?”

 

Mizar sniffled, looking down at her skirt and playing with it. “You won't hate me after?” she asked in a tiny voice that went straight to Dipper's heart.

 

“I promise,” he said, and found himself with arms full of sister.

 

He was going to regret this, wasn't he.

 

 

Dipper was right. He did regret looking into it.

 

Though not entirely because of what he found.

 

Being worshiped...did odd things to him. The demon in him loved it, reveled in all the foolish souls giving him things with so little effort on his behalf.

 

The human in him was disturbed by it...but also, to his vague shame, enjoyed it as well. There had always been a part of him that wanted to be acknowledged as special, this was just on a much bigger level. It was how far it was taken that weirded him out, made him uncomfortable if he thought too much on it.

 

Dipper only skimmed the surface, as he was going to let Mizar tell him about things had been different for her in her own time, as he'd promised.

 

He had many previous Mizars and their lectures on the subject to thank for that reminder, and the fact that he was trying to be human now for Antares, for Pearl, to thank for remembering it.

 

As for Pearl...well, as he'd offered to let Mizar met her, he couldn't exactly keep it a secret.

 

If her reaction was any indication, this was going to be an interesting (loud) meeting.

 

At least she was willing to be loud now, Dipper decided. It was better than when he'd first brought her here and she'd been terrified that the least little thing would make Dipper get rid of her.

 

But getting Pearl to understand people worshiped her new father...and that her new Aunt was coming from a group of people that did...hoo boy.

 

“That's kinda creepy,” was Pearls' observation, once she'd finished digesting it all. “She's not gonna try any of that while she's here, is she?”

 

“Okay, so this part's weirder, but...they didn't know she was my sister, okay kiddo?” Dipper said, inwardly wincing at this part. “So...they just knew Mizar and Alcor are supposed to be together and jumped to conclusions. And assumed we were supposed to...ahem, to get married, so she's kind of adjusting too, okay? So be nice when I bring her over.”

 

Pearl considered that, watching Dipper with eyes far too old for her age. “I'll be nice,” she said, “So long as she doesn't try and act like you're still getting married. 'Cuz she's your sister. And that's kinda gross.”

 

“She's working on the switch, give her a little break,” Dipper said, ruffling Pearl's sleek hair. “They were harping on her being my wife for eighteen years, and she only just found out about the sister bit. She's trying.”

 

 

Dipper found himself shifting and fidgeting as he waited for Pearl's dance class to end.

 

As soon as he got Pearl home, he was going to go and fetch Mizar, and he was really questioning how well this had been thought out. The offer had been a spur of the moment idea that had seemed good at the time, but...

 

He barely knew this Mizar yet, and he was already bringing her home to meet his charge, his daughter.

 

But on the other hand, it was Mizar...not that a Mizar couldn't go to the bad or get him to do terrible things...still. Time was up.

 

 

He left Pearl nervously fiddling with her dolls as he blipped off to pick up Mizar.

 

Mizar was waiting outside the church dedicated to him, looking as nervous as Pearl had, and Dipper sensed some people inside, watching to see what would happen.

 

Mizar brightened when she saw him, as if she hadn't been entirely sure he'd come.

 

Dipper went for the hug, reassured when it was returned.

 

“You okay? Ready for this?” he asked when they drew back from the hug, and Mizar shrugged, playing with her hair.

 

“Guess so! Take me to my niece, brother mine!” she declared, and Dipper decided not to comment on the nerves radiating off her.

 

 

Mizar and Pearl sat looking at each other across the living room, Pearl with her legs not touching the floor in the big armchair and Mizar barely able to keep still.

 

Dipper, sitting tensely on the couch between the armchairs, was seriously beginning to believe he'd rushed things.

 

“I'm not gonna let you take my Papa away,” Pearl suddenly announced. “I had to go through too much to get here.”

 

Dipper gaped at Pearl for a few precious seconds as Mizar swallowed the words that sprang to her lips, just as possessive, a result of years of being taught to see Alcor as hers, half of the pair he was meant to be just as she was his, to say, “I'm not here to take him away. I just want to be part of his life, and yours, too.”

 

Pearl glared at her for a few seconds more before her face eased. “Okay,” she said. “I just...wanted to make that clear. Yanno. In case you still had ideas about marrying him or something.”

 

Dipper felt he should say something, but he was being ignored despite being the topic of discussion.

 

“Well, he was pretty clear about why it wasn't happening,” Mizar said. “But they've been telling me it was going to happen and training me for it since I was a baby.”

 

“Gross,” Pearl said, leaning forward in the huge chair. “What if you didn't wanna get married?”

 

“That wasn't an option, according to everyone I knew. If Alcor found me pleasing, then he'd have me,” Mizar said frankly.

 

Both Dipper and Pearl paused at that. Dipper wasn't sure if Pearl caught just how disturbing Mizar's statement was, but he had, and even as a demon he was highly disturbed.

 

“Okay, we're gonna have to talk about that later,” Dipper said. “I'm...going to go fix lunch.”

 

“I can do it,” Mizar said immediately, starting to rise. “You're the Dreambender, I'm supposed to serve you, let me do it!”

 

“No, really, you're a guest here,” Dipper said, realizing with a sinking heart that they still had a long way to go. “You're supposed to be meeting Pearl now, remember? You two just talk, I've got this.”

 

With that, Dipper hurried into the kitchen and braced his hands on the counter, taking a deep breath he didn't need but that helped despite that.

 

Somehow, he hadn't realized just how much Mizar was going to have to unlearn, just what it meant that she'd grown up in a cult dedicated to him and being trained to be his bride.

 

This was...going to be difficult.

 

 

In the living room, the silence was getting more awkward.

 

“Maybe they're right,” Mizar said to herself, only just loud enough that Pearl heard her. “Maybe I'm not the right Mizar after all. If I can't even do this right...”

 

“Papa likes cooking sometimes,” Pearl said, and Mizar looked up at her in surprise. “He doesn't always get it right 'cuz he forgets what tastes good to humans, but it makes him feel good to take care of us. I dunno what they told you, but Papa doesn't need taken care of. He just needs people around, like, to help him 'member how to people. He told me so.”

 

“You must think pretty poorly of me,” Mizar said after a minute. “I'm trying, it's just...”

 

“Papa said you've been raised to always think certain things and it's gonna take awhile to un-learn them,” Pearl said. “Like me. But how're you gonna do that when you're still living with the people that still think that way? I mean, they're gonna keep telling you it all the time.”

 

“I...well, they all heard your Papa say I'm his sister,” Mizar said weakly, and Pearl hugged a pillow tight, not looking at her new aunt.

 

“Papa had to bring me here 'cuz no one where I lived was gonna do the right thing for me,” she said, still looking at the pillow. “Maybe you should ask if you can come live here too.”

 

“You don't think I'll use it to try and steal your papa away?” Mizar asked, a touch of amusement in her voice, and Pearl grinned.

 

“I think he can stop you,” she said.

 

 

Lunch was only mildly awkward, to Dipper's relief, the sort of awkward that comes when you're trying to get to know someone new that is important to someone who's also important to you and both of you are desperate to make a good impression. A good awkward.

 

After lunch, Dipper urged Pearl to go outside and play, to let he and Mizar talk. Pearl was a bit reluctant – she'd just met her aunt and had no idea when she'd see her again – but her papa was firm. He needed to talk to Mizar.

 

Mizar waited until Pearl was outside and Dipper settled before she spoke. “Yanno, Pearl brought up something that stuck with me,” she said quietly. “I'm trying to relearn everything about you, and until I came here to visit I didn't really realize just how much they got wrong. I'm still trying to understand it all, I'm sure there's going to be a lot more. And...I'm still living with them. I may be Mizar, but they aren't listening to me when I say things. Pearl says that so long as I'm living with my family, I'm going to keep backsliding into their way of thinking. Well, she didn't say it like that, but you know. That's what she meant. It's hard to remember how things really are when you're always being told it's not that way.”

 

Dipper winced. “Yeah, that...that's probably true. So I guess the question is, what do you want to do about it?”

 

“It's my choice?” Mizar asked, and Dipper hid his wince as he nodded.

 

Mizar leaned back in the huge armchair she'd chosen in the living room, curling her legs up onto the seat as she thought.

 

“I guess...the best thing would be if I could move out,” Mizar said. “But I don't have anywhere to go. I got a good education, but it was all...well, it was all in being a demon's wife. I don't know anything about living in the outside,” she finished sadly.

 

“...you could come live here,” Dipper offered.

 

Mizar froze, looking at Dipper with wide eyes. “You really mean that?”

 

The more Dipper thought about it, the more he liked the idea. “Yeah, I do. We’ve got the room, and Alcor should have his Mizar around, right? So your family can't argue about it.”

 

Mizar squealed with glee and threw herself at Dipper for hugs, and Dipper wondered for the fifth time today just what he'd gotten himself into.


	94. Meet the Pines Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seiya234 said: For the request: James G. meeting Stan or Henry? 
> 
> This ended up...longer than anticipated. XD

 

James Gallucio had only briefly met Henry Pines, the man hovering in the background of the library as James was dazzled by Mabel Pines and struck senseless at learning that the Dreambender was hovering around the Library.

 

Mostly, James had gotten the impression of someone rooted, someone grounded and steady, and had found himself glancing down at the tall man's feet for actual roots.

 

But beyond that cursory introduction, James really hadn't gotten to talk to Henry. Mabel was bright, and vibrant, and took up all his attention at the time.

 

 

The Stanley Pines Memorial Library had all of the magical books to be found in town – or at least, the ones of any real substance – but what James needed at the moment was more along the lines of the history of the town.

 

The statue in the center of town claimed it was founded by a Nathaniel Northwest, but, well, James had his doubts about that. Still, if that was the story the town wanted to claim...well, he was still going to dig into it but it would likely be what he used for his reports and his show.

 

What it meant for right now, though, was that James was checking up in the Gravity Falls Public Library rather than the Pines one.

 

He had basically commandeered a table, though not intentionally. It had simply happened as he gathered more books and took more notes, made more photocopies, had more and more information spread out around him.

 

Several of the older patrons of the library, who gave James the impression that they came to the library on a daily basis, were watching him with various degrees of amusement, although one or two seemed a bit irritated with him, in that older verses younger generations way.

 

“It looks like you've got quite the project going there. Are you doing okay, or do you need help finding anything?” a voice, quiet and assured, asked from behind James.

 

James spun and found himself face to face with Henry Pines. Or, well, face to mid torso, as Henry was ridiculously tall and James was still seated.

 

“It looks like something my brother would do...or at least, used to do,” Henry said, face clouding for a moment. “Did you find everything? Oh, you were the one who came to the Memorial Library the other day, aren't you?”

 

“Ah, yes, I was,” James said, adjusting his glasses and wishing he dared go into interview mode, but he was keenly aware of his audience. “Actually, I'd kinda hoped to talk to you there, but, well, your wife is...vibrant.”

 

Henry smiled, slow and proud and so full of love James felt an answering smile tug at his lips. “Yeah, she is that.”

 

“I'd still like to interview you, if that's okay,” James said. “You know, as someone who came to live in Gravity Falls after the Transcendence? And became really a core part of the town without having magic ahead of time? At least I'm assuming so and I really shouldn't assume things and I'm babbling again and so how about that interview?”

 

“I suppose it wouldn't hurt,” Henry said after a second. “I'll just have to let Mabel know. I get off work at three today, I'll meet you at Greasy's.”

 

“Great! That's great, thanks!”

 

“Oh, and the actual history books about Gravity Falls are over there,” Henry added, pointing. “Depends on if you want to go with the legends or the facts, and they get a bit muddled after a certain point.”

 

“Oh,” James said, looking down at the spread of books across his table. “What about the Transcendence? I know there's been plenty of books written about it, but none by an actual Gravity Falls native who was there, and...” he trailed off at the bleak look on Henry's face, feeling he'd stepped in something deeper than he'd realized.

 

“Most people around here don't like talking about it,” Henry said. “It...wasn't an easy time. For anyone. But especially my family.”

 

“Right, sorry, I just don't want to perpetuate lies,” James said, cursing his mouth when it kept talking without his input.

 

That drew a small smile out of Henry, just the slightest lifting of the corner of his mouth. “Well, you'd be one of the first,” he said simply. “I'll see you at Greasy's.”

 

James had enough self control to keep the celebration mental.

 

 

James was at Greasy's early, on purpose, so he could get himself ready and not be fumbling when Henry Pines got there.

 

It was important, he had found, to appear confident and competent in order to get the best interviews, no matter how he felt inside.

 

Technically, this wasn't the first time he was going to met the man, but it was going to be the first proper, sit down conversation, so he was going to try and fake it.

 

He had enough experience at this, he could fake it for another conversation.

 

Then Henry Pines folded himself into the seat across from him, taking a moment to situate those long limbs into the small booth, and James hoped it was going to be enough.

 

Because there was something about the way Henry looked at him that made a person want to be honest with him, and James would make note of that except Henry was watching him right now, exchanging pleasant greetings and thanking the waitress – Lazy Susan, James had found she was called – as she brought over drinks.

 

Henry folded his hands on the table, looking at James levelly. “I want to know something, before we get started,” he said.

 

Something drew James' eye down to Henry's sweater, a handmade item of some skill if James was any judge, and it was only now that he realized that the star under the logo “You're A Super Star!” was Alcor's star, Alcor's symbol, and he cursed himself for not noticing before.

 

Usually he was more observant than that, and it didn't do to stop being on edge just because Gravity Falls felt so welcoming and so much like a home.

 

But of course Henry would be wearing Alcor's symbol...Alcor was close to the Pines family, wasn't he? Mabel claimed him as her brother, however that worked...

 

Okay, it was good, just stay respectful like planned, and things would be okay...James hoped.

 

Demons were odd, and even he didn't always know what would set them off – and that was with regular demons. Alcor was...well, he was in a class all by himself, and James wanted to know more even as he knew he was flirting with the edge of disaster.

 

But for right now, he had Henry Pines in front of him, looking at him seriously, and he needed to focus.

 

“I want to know what you're going to do with all this footage, and all these interviews,” Henry said, hands still folded on the table, calm but firm. “There's a lot of people in this town that came here to be safe. People here just want to live their lives. You're not the first to try and come here and write things about our home, or to try and film us. But Di...Alcor got a good feeling off of you. So. What kind of show is it you're going to be filming? Because we, the Pines mostly but the rest of the town too, aren't going to let people exploit us again. It hurt enough the first time.”

 

James remembered, suddenly, a few documentaries that had suddenly disappeared, ones that hadn't painted Gravity Falls in a positive or even neutral light, and suppressed a shudder.

 

“I think I remember some of those,” he said, pushing his glasses back into place. “They were...cruel,” he said finally, deciding to say exactly how he felt about them. “And sensationalist. I understand why my show gets edited the way it does, but I want to educate, not alarm or sensationalize. Being here has opened my eyes to a lot of things I hadn't realized, and I want to share that.”

 

James blushed as he realized that, not only had he been almost preaching, but he'd revealed more than he meant to.

 

Henry, on the other hand, was simply nodding. “There's something about this town, yeah,” he agreed. “I think it's because so many people love it here. Is your show available online? We don't get very good television here yet...we're working on better internet, but it's still not the best either.”

 

“Oh, yeah, it is, I have all the seasons on disks too, I keep them with me for reference,” James said, knowing he was babbling a little but unable to stop himself.

 

Henry smiled, and it was rooting for James, calming, and he took a deep breath, feeling as if he were the one being interviewed, even though Henry had been nothing but calm and kind. “I think I'd like to see them,” Henry said. “I bet Mabel and Alcor would too. Seems like the kind of thing Alcor would especially enjoy.”

 

“Really?” James squeaked, clearing his throat as Henry hid a smile. “Really?” he repeated, in a normal tone.

 

Henry wasn't hiding his smile anymore, but it was fond, as he obviously thought of something. “Yeah, I can pretty much guarantee that if you're respectful about things, he'll enjoy it,” Henry said. “He used to really enjoy _Ghost Harassers_ before they had to quit. You know, because of all the sudden influx of other spirits messing with them.”

 

James' eyes lit up. “Really? I loved _Ghost Harassers_ !” he said. “I didn't think anyone else liked it, everyone I ever mentioned it to thought it was ridiculous...” he coughed and blushed. “Um. Sorry. Soo...how about that interview, then?”

 

 

James had met the oldest of the Pines, briefly, the day he'd met Mabel.

 

He'd had many opportunities in his line of work to meet fakers and charlatans, cheats and scam artists, so James was pretty sure he knew how to spot one.

 

And even that brief meeting had told James he had been in the presence of a master. One who would bluff with no cards and had a chance of pulling it off on chutzpah alone.

 

But James still wasn't entirely sure what to make of Stan Pines beyond that.

 

On the one hand, the man was a fraud and a cheat, unrepentant and cheap. On the other...Henry had spoken well of the man, during their interview.

 

James got the impression that, although Henry was calm and kind and unwilling to say cruel things about others, real praise only came when it was earned.

 

Plus...apparently, the man was Stanford Pines' twin brother. Had pretended to be Stanford for quite a few years.

 

In fact, the first time James met Stanley Pines, out in public, away from niece and nephew in law, he had seen the man from the back and, in an embarrassing moment, called out, “Stanford? Stanford Pines?” and Stanley had answered.

 

“Yeah, whattya want? With...with my brother, that is,” he said, scratching at the back of his head awkwardly. “ 'Cuz that's my brother's name. Twins. Mix up happens all the time.”

 

It was an awkward and brief first meeting, to say the least.

 

 

It was easy to say that Stan Pines and James Gallucio did not exactly see eye to eye at first.

 

James was one of those researchers of the paranormal, the strange, like Stanford had been – he looked up to Stanford, and for Stan, it was a strange mix of resentment and pain as he saw someone so similar to what Dipper might have grown to be, even if James had no idea of what Stan saw when he looked at him.

 

And for James, Stan was a grifter, a cheat, someone who had concealed the supernatural for so long it was almost second nature.

 

The type of person who, for years, had made James' life that much more difficult in a dozen little ways.

 

James did admire Stan Pines' devotion to his family, and the man was a bit of a local hero alongside being a local legend along the lines of a general 'eh, it's Stan, he does that' type of attitude.

 

Still, Stan Pines had been at the center of the Transcendence, so James wanted to interview him, was dying to interview him, he just hadn't yet figured out how to 1) get Stan to agree to an interview or 2) get Stan to agree to be truthful during an interview.

 

James had a feeling that number two was going to be the difficult one.

 

 

It was hard to find information on the Pines family and exactly what their role had been in the Transcendence. Everyone agreed they had been there, and that Dipper Pines had given his life to prevent the demon Bill Cipher from spreading something called “Weirdmaggeddon” across the world, and the Transcendence had been caused by something to do with Cipher's death.

 

Apart from that, though, there was just what the Pines had decided to share with the world. Mostly Stanford Pines' writings from his travels around the world, or the occasional statement about the Transcendence alongside Mabel Pines' work on Supernatural Rights.

 

Oh, and the injunction the Pines parents had issued, preventing anyone now or in the future from using their son's image or name for anything, and the statement they'd issued on how excited their son would have been at the Transcendence and all it meant.

 

It was easy to understand why there was so little to go on – hell, a good many of those involved had been minors at the time, including Dipper Pines, so it wasn't surprising they were being kept out of it, besides the other obvious reasons, including privacy and keeping the nutjobs who were looking for someone to blame for the Transcendence away from their family – but it did get frustrating when one was trying to put together a timeline of what happened that day and trying to understand the links between the Pines family, the Transcendence, and Gravity Falls.

 

 

Things might have continued like that indefinitely until one day, when James was having coffee with Mabel and Henry Pines, another informal interview crossed with a regular coffee meet-up.

 

Mabel mentioned in passing a portal and a rift in time and space, and James' interest was piqued.

 

Mabel, with a gleam in her eye, latched onto the opportunity to brag about her great-uncle to a fresh audience and took it with both hands.

 

She was honest enough not to cloud over his flaws, but she was eager to tell someone new about the things he'd accomplished.

 

James could tell there was something she wasn't talking about, but he didn't press – one thing he'd honed here in Gravity Falls was tact, and how not to ask the question as it passed through his mind.

 

But this time, he couldn't stop one as Mabel recited the story of how Stan had fixed an interdimensional portal to bring Stanford home.

 

“I'm sorry, wait...are you saying Stanford built an _interdimentional portal_ ?” he asked. “And Stanley taught himself quantum physics to fix it?”

 

“Oh, yeah...funny story about that...” Mabel said, suddenly uncomfortable. “Um...we're gonna keep this to us three, k?”

 

James nodded solemnly, eyes wide and rapt, as Mabel began to tell the tale of Stanford, Stanley, and Gravity Falls.

 

 

The next time James saw Stan Pines, it took a supreme effort of will not to gush over the man embarrassingly.

 

Knowing him, Stan probably would have taken advantage of him for it somehow.

 

But relations between James Gallucio and Stanley Pines did improve after that day.

 

 

Henry Pines had told James that Alcor was starting to like him.

 

The man had tried to warn James what it was like when Alcor tried to make a friend, when he liked someone and wanted them to like him back. As evidence, he told James about a few of the things Alcor had pulled while he was courting Mabel.

 

If James was going to stay in Gravity Falls forever, though, and be friends with the Pines family, sooner or later he was going to have to deal with Alcor, have to pass not only his inspection but also Candy and Grenda's, Mabel's best friends who owned the weapons and pet shops in town (and whom James was sure could not only kill him, but dispose of his body with little effort, should he upset the Pines family or hurt the people of Gravity Falls with his show), and probably Pacifica Northwest's as well, eventually.

 

But apparently, if he kept hanging out around the core people of Gravity Falls, those who'd been there for the Transcendence, sooner or later they were going to slip and call Alcor by his true name – and they had to know James could be trusted with that.

 

That it wouldn't end up in his show.

 

Of course, if he did slip up somehow Pacifica Northwest could probably sue him back into obscurity and beyond, but it wouldn't make up for breaking the trust they'd placed in him.

 

It still didn't really prepare James for the day he went home and found a demon inspecting one of his displays intently, hands carefully clasped behind his back even as his face hovered an inch from the screen.

 

The demon jumped when James dropped his books in shock, looking a bit like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

 

“Oh! Um, hello,” James said, a million thoughts running through his head, previous encounters with the supernatural and demons, things said around town about Alcor, warnings given by Stan and Mabel and Henry Pines. He gave a little wave, going to take a step into the house and stumbling over the books he'd dropped.

 

“Ah, no,” he said, barely catching himself from falling flat on his face. “Crap, I...wait, agh.” James scooped up the books in a hurry, scrambling to get them together and the papers all sorted.

 

Clawed hands handed James the last of them, and he looked up to find the demon an inch from his face, inspecting him the way he'd inspected the display screen.

 

James froze, afraid to move, and the small part of his mind not paralyzed with fear hoped he'd never made someone feel this way – like a thing instead of a person, like they were being inspected inside and out.

 

Then Alcor finally blinked, and James felt like he could breathe again.

 

Alcor grinned, a fairly human grin all told despite the sharklike teeth it contained, and commented, “Mabel likes you. So do Henry and Stan.”

 

James sat back on his heels, clutching the books to his chest. “Oh, that's...that's good. I like them, I like them too.”

 

Alcor settled down in front of James, still floating but cross-legged in the air now, and tilted his head as he looked over James again.

 

“Henry says you like _Ghost Harrassers_ ,” he said abruptly. He reached into thin air and pulled out a box set, grinning shyly. “Wanna watch season one and riff on it?”

 

James may not have known much about friends and the making thereof, but this was an overture even he could recognize – and be enthusiastic about.

 

“Do I!” he cried. “Hold on, lemmie put these down, we're not moving again until tomorrow!”

 

 

According to Mabel Pines, Stanford Pines didn't stop by Gravity Falls as often as his family would have liked.

 

James only dared ask once, afraid of coming off as creepy or sticking his nose where it didn't belong – and as he was starting to like the rest of the Pines family, he didn't want to upset them.

 

He didn't make friends easily – too absorbed in the supernatural, too geeky, too socially awkward – and he wanted to keep the ones he'd finally made.

 

Mabel's unusually subdued response was that things were awkward in her family when it came to the older twins.

 

That they'd talked, and they'd been getting better, but there were some things that made things awkward...like Stanford's guilt over Bill Cipher and the Transcendence.

 

Still, apparently James hadn't hidden his hero-worship of Stanford well enough – or someone in the Pines family had done research to find out, either was possible, he'd never really been that good at hiding things – and Mabel had promised to let him know the next time Stanford came home.

 

 

James was debating...on the one hand, his producers were getting antsy about his opening episodes of _Behind the Myths: Gravity Falls_ , and he needed to start editing together his footage so far.

 

On the other, Alcor...no, Dipper, they'd trusted James with Alcor's true name, how amazing was _that_ ...anyway, Dipper had invited him over to watch _Ghost Harassers Season 3_ with him and Henry, and the lure was strong. Henry may not have cared much for the show, but he enjoyed watching James and Alcor nerd out over it, and seemed amused by their antics.

 

James had a feeling getting Dipper's real name was the full proof he needed that he belonged here, well and truly, and he had to be careful when he edited these episodes that he didn't betray that trust.

 

Maybe he'd get Dipper to watch them before he sent off the final edit...he'd pretty much promised that already anyway, but the Pines family commentary might be fairly entertaining...maybe he should take the discs of the previous seasons with him, as a loan for the Pines...they had mentioned wanting to watch them, it might prove he'd meant what he said about being respectful...

 

James was frozen in the middle of the living room, discs in hands, weighing duty against friends, when his phone went off in his pocket.

 

James scrambled for it, still not used to having people other than work call him.

 

“Hey, buddy, you're gonna want to get over here early!” Mabel's voice chirped in his ear almost before he'd finished his hello. “Great Uncle Ford just walked in a few minutes ago, and he and Dipper are gonna end up locking themselves in the nerd cave for a few hours pretty soon. Get over here so I can introduce you before they disappear down into the basement.”

 

James was out of the house so fast he was surprised later to find he hadn't, in fact, left scorch marks on the carpet.

 

 

“Oh, hey, you made it!” Mabel greeted cheerfully as James stepped onto the porch of the Shack, as the Pines family called the home part of the Stanley Pines Memorial Library, apparently in memory of its former purpose as The Mystery Shack. “Dip-dop and Great Uncle Ford just got over their usual awkwardness and are on their way to nerd town, but they just got started. Should be ready for you.”

 

 

James paused in the doorway to the living room, feeling nerves trying to overtake him.

 

In the other room he could see Dipper and Stanford Pines, the real, in the flesh Stanford, reassuring Dipper that he didn't have to try and force himself into a more human form if the end of what James heard was to be understood.

 

Dipper must have sensed James, as he glanced up and grinned. “Hey, Great Uncle Ford, check it out. Jamie made it.”

 

Only the Pines, James thought, had ever gotten away with calling him 'Jamie', but it was buried under a landslide of nerves now that he was finally meeting his idol.

 

Stanford, for his part, seemed to have no idea of the turmoil inside James, as he turned and gave him a smile, offering a fist to shake. After a second the fist opened, and the slight smirk on Dipper's face told James he looked as starstruck as he felt as he shook Stanford's hand.

 

“Alcor spoke of you, something about a documentary series on Gravity Falls?” Stanford said.

 

“I...I brought the discs, like I promised Dipper. So we could watch them later, and – and the footage I was starting to edit for the new season. A – and I have a PhD in cryptozoology,” James stuttered, using Dipper's real name and being too awed to notice the sharp glance Stanford sent towards Dipper at the slip. “And one in legends and mythology. I...you've been an inspiration to me, I mean it. I got my grants and show so I could follow your footsteps, I...”

 

Stanford smiled and patted James' hand when James trailed off into stammering. “Ah, I remember someone else being struck speechless when we first met,” he commented, glancing over at Dipper. “Um...you called Alcor...?”

 

“He knows my name,” Dipper interrupted. “He earned it.”

 

“Ah, right. Wasn't sure, after...well. Yes. Dipper and I were about to go over the findings from my latest trip. I don't supposed you'd care to join us? And perhaps we could see some of this 'show' of yours afterward?”

 

The noise James made in answer to that was downright embarrassing.

 

“I'll take that as a yes!” Ford laughed. “Come along, boys, science awaits!”


	95. How Richard Gained a Drinking Buddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ii-thiscat-ii said: I want more Richard the Twin Souls actor! 
> 
> With a side bonus of [this prompt](http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/107687902359/hc-twin-souls-has-more-of-a-cult-following-so-the).

 

Richard had known there was going to be problems with his latest role.

 

Demons were still a touchy subject, even now, thirty years after the Transcendence, as people were torn between learning more about them and trying to pretend they didn't exist. And Richard hadn't been chosen to play just any demon, but one of the most controversial of all, in one of the most controversial pieces of demon based literature to come out since the Transcendence.

 

Alcor the Dreambender, and the long awaited Twin Souls movie.

 

 

Richard had expected things to be controversial, but he hadn't quite expected the focus the movie put on him.

 

Especially not from the fans.

 

Richard hadn't had a lot of roles so far, so he hadn't had much experience of fans and fandom yet.

 

And this movie was giving him a crash course in the darkest aspects of mixing reality and fantasy.

 

Richard was fairly sure he didn't look much like the demon's human-ish form, whether it be the one described in the novels or in first hand accounts, but the hated prosthetics and makeup were supposed to take care of that.

 

(He especially hated the wing prosthetics and the sclera contacts. The wings refused to look anything but fake, but using CG to add them in later was going to up the budget enough the production crew was still arguing over them. The practical effect wings kept getting caught on things and didn't move naturally, and had a tendency to droop, sometimes falling off completely in the middle of a scene. As for the sclera contacts...it didn't seem to matter how many times Richard put them in, at least one of them always felt like it was inside out within the hour. He wasn't even going to get into the problems with the fake claws and fangs.)

 

They were going to be shooting the non-demon scenes, where Alcor pretended to be the human boy 'Al' (and why, oh why, would a demon choose to go to high school? The best Richard could come up was the chaos potential in an environment so high in hormones and emotions, but he remembered his own high school years all too well, and it was a particular hell he never wanted to revisit) to buy some time to fix the problems with the props, and Richard had done a few interviews already to promote the film, so people knew he was going to be Alcor despite all the issues. (Mostly due to an iron clad contract, but he mostly left that out of the interviews.)

 

More importantly, people knew what he looked like now.

 

Thankfully, most people could tell the difference between movies and reality, so apart from a few fanatics wailing about how dare he play a demon, one in a positive role at that, Richard was mostly left alone.

 

At first.

 

 

Then the promos for the movie really started, letting people know it was filming and releasing behind the scenes shots as well as promotional stills.

 

And the fanatics really began coming out of the woodwork.

 

For all that the books were controversial, and (in Richard's opinion) not very well written, they were popular. And their very controversial nature meant that most of those who were willing to admit in public that they were fans of the book were fans in the worst, most obsessive way.

 

The letters began pouring in, mostly from teenagers, though not limited to that age group.

 

Letters to Alcor, begging him to help them find their 'Alcor' or 'Mizar', begging to be ravished, for a deal, for all sorts of things they really shouldn't ask of a demon.

 

Some of the letters left Richard feeling dirty, while others were so depressing he could barely stand to read them, and though he'd sworn once he wouldn't do it, he had to leave most of them to his agent, letting them be filtered before he saw them.

 

 

Then came the day he was at a signing for the event, a rare thing during filming, but even directors had to let their stars eat once in awhile (though they made them pay for that at times, with events like these) and the two teenage girls came up to Richard.

 

The look in their eyes should have warned him, but Richard was still new to this game, still new to the insanity that was a good deal of the Twin Souls fandom, so perhaps it was not quite fair to be hard on him later to not realize what was coming.

 

The two girls looked up at Richard starry-eyed, and he braced himself for more requests for autographs or spoilers, backstage passes or...and he really didn't like this one...propositions.

 

Richard really hoped those were because he was an actor and the people propositioning him were star struck and not because of who he was playing.

 

He...didn't want to think about what it meant if the people propositioning him were doing it because they thought he somehow was Alcor, the demon.

 

But he had to face it now, as the girls batted their lashes and tried to pose seductively, pouting and asking for 'Alcor', as in the demon Alcor, not the actor playing Alcor, to come ravish them, oh please Great Alcor.

 

“Oh dear sweet god no,” five cameras caught Richard saying. “Why would you even, I mean, holy crap _no_.”

 

 

He just wished having that reaction on camera, being interviewed about it over and over, would stop people from acting as if he were Alcor and trying to get him to ravish them, like in the books (or their fanfiction).

 

Or at least stop offering him things. Especially the raw meat, blood, and sex. Just...just no.

 

After the fan who cut themself open in front of him to offer 'Alcor' their blood, Richard demanded security for every time he had to go out into public, no matter why he was out.

 

 

Honestly, Richard expected protesters at some point. This _was_ a romance movie starring a demon, and it had some questionable ethics involved, thanks to the whole 'demon' part (or at least, that was the excuse Richard was using), so protesting was almost a given.

 

Heck, the publicists and producers were almost counting on it, for publicity purposes. Cheaper than regular publicity and, for their purposes, just as effective, as people who'd never known they were making a Twin Souls movie found out about it from hearing about boycotts.

 

So, random churches and morality groups, both morality and 'morality', protesting, was expected and accepted.

 

 

What none of them had expected was Alcor and his reaction (and protests) to the movies.

 

Admittedly, at first, no one knew it was Alcor behind the sabotage. It looked like a string of accidents and plain bad luck, not something demonic. Most demons weren't very good at 'subtle', after all.

 

If anything, most of them figured Alcor would be, at worst, mildly annoyed by the film – he hadn't done anything to punish people for writing fanfiction that was technically about him, even if they could claim it was the fictional Alcor and not the real Alcor, after all.

 

(Richard had seen some of those fanfics, despite himself. Personally, he thought Alcor was taking the fanfiction with more grace than could be expected from a demon, unless there was some plan he had involving it. Unlikely, but again, demon.

 

Richard figured he'd handle it with much less grace and had already resolved to avoid everything Twin Souls related after the movies began to come out.)

 

At best, the production crew hoped he'd like it, for a portrayal of him that was meant to be positive. At worst...well, the word on the street was Mizar had promised Alcor wouldn't retaliate for Twin Souls related things, so hopefully he kept to that promise.

 

But things just kept going wrong. Makeup wouldn't work right, props were delivered to the wrong studio, costumes were made with the wrong fabrics or colors or size, special effects looked faker than a fifties B horror movie, a list of problems that grew by the day.

 

They were little things, all told, mostly things that could be fixed with time and effort (and money) but they were piling up. And each one set the schedule back and made shooting that much more difficult, piling on the extra costs, inching closer and closer to eating up the budget.

 

So someone had the brilliant idea to try and summon Alcor for help 'un-cursing' the movie.

 

Richard already was hating every minute of shooting this movie, the source material, and everything associated with both movie and books, so he had no interest in summoning up the demon they were insulting with this train wreck and asking him to fix it. The pay wasn't good enough to die for.

 

Hell, the pay was barely good enough to keep him working at this, and if he hadn't signed a contract...well. With that contract, if he walked, he was getting blacklisted, and he might never get another job, so he had to endure.

 

It helped that he was currently playing Alcor as someone who hated himself and his life. It let Richard let off a lot of steam over this movie during filming.

 

And yet, he was curious enough about the inevitable train wreck this summoning was going to be to watch from the wings, as it were, far enough away to not be involved but enough to see – hopefully.

 

Sometimes demons could be a little indiscriminate about who was within splatter-range, or so Richard had heard.

 

Plus...he was curious just how close the makeup department was getting him to the look of the real Alcor. Richard was pretty sure they were going off the books' descriptions of the demon, and he really, really doubted that was how the real thing looked.

 

And as the smoke from Alcor's entrance cleared, Richard realized just how off the makeup department and novel both were, and he was pretty sure he could see at least one person from makeup taking notes already.

 

Pictures were more than likely a greater risk than they were worth.

 

One thing Richard did notice – Alcor may have been floating (and ugh, that was going to be a pain to try and recreate) but he still seemed rather...short, for a demon.

 

But then again, demons could be just about any form they wanted, right?

 

So...maybe it wasn't such a disaster. Makeup wise, at least. Hair was doable, if fluffier than expected, at least the costume was going to be super classy if they went with reality as opposed to the novel...

 

And the contacts, as much of a pain as they were, matched a set of eyes that, while definitely gold on black the way they had been said to be, were glaring at the movie's cast and crew in a look that was decidedly unfriendly.

 

“What do you want?” the demon demanded, crossing his arms and sneering, obviously unwilling to be here.

 

“We believe someone's cursed our movie,” the producer said, stepping forward, director at his side. “We want to make a deal with you to ensure the rest of the production goes smoothly. And for aid with the special effects.”

 

Alcor blinked at them blankly before he began to chuckle. Chuckles turned to full blown cackling, a demon curled around himself in the center of the circle as he howled with laughter, clutching at his waist as he laughed until he cried.

 

According to the research Richard had heard producer and director discussing, the circle should have held Alcor to listen to them for fifteen minutes.

 

Twenty minutes after being summoned Alcor finally calmed down, straightening and wiping his eyes with a handkerchief he pulled from a pocket and disappeared with a little puff of blue fire.

 

“Well, I'm not sure you have anything you could possibly trade me to help you,” Alcor said smugly, examining his claws, a hint of laughter still in his voice. “Seeing as how I'm the one doing all the...cursing, as you called it.”

 

The silence that greeted that announcement was deafening and stunned. It erupted a few seconds later in shocked and confused whispers as the producer and director stared at the demon in disbelief.

 

“But...why?” the director asked, voice close to a wail, and Richard remembered suddenly that this movie was their baby, their brainchild, the thing they'd worked hard to get greenlit.

 

Didn't mean Richard hated it any less, though.

 

Alcor gave the director a glare, as if irritated by their irreverence, before launching into a rant about Twin Souls and why, exactly, he despised its very existence.

 

Richard found himself nodding along, surprisingly in sync with the demon. Forgetting himself, he stepped forward and added to the rant when Alcor faltered, looking for the words to express his disgust.

 

Alcor paused, looking at Richard in surprise as the actor joined his venting, and after a few seconds began to grin.

 

He frowned again when Richard wrapped his rant up with, “but as much as I hate this thing, I have to finish filming it, yanno? Or it's going to be a black mark against me and I won't be able to work again, hell none of us will, and all these delays are just making our hell last longer! I want this tire fire of a movie over with!”

 

Richard stopped, panting and only slightly embarrassed about his rant, hoping no one caught that on video.

 

“Boooo,” the demon commented, bring Richard's attention to him. “Ugh. Fine. I'll knock it off. But I want drinking and bitching nights with you,” he said, pointing at Richard, “until the whole Twin Souls thing dies down. Got it?”

 

“Can I invite others?” Richard asked.

 

“Only if they're coming to drink and bitch too,” Alcor said.

 

Richard wondered just what he'd gotten himself into, but...at least he'd finally found someone who hated Twin Souls as much as he did.


	96. D, D, & More D(emons)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> awesomecat42 said:
> 
> Can we see more of Alcor and the DD&mD group? Alcor as a bard is a thing that Needs To Happen (in my opinion).
> 
>  (The D, D, & MD group is introduced on ch 45, Dungeons and Demons.)
> 
> Halfway through writing this, I realized I could have written up part of their campaign. Guess who has learned – and now is going to learn more – about D&D so they can write part of the adventures of the Demonic D, D, & More D group's campaign someday.

 

 

What makes a cult?

 

There was the dictionary definition, of course, but some people had a much wider definition.

 

And, Mark reflected, looking over the group seated around his table, he and his group sure as hell didn't worship a demon, didn't match any of the other criteria for a cult, but the amount of time they spent around a certain demon surely would mark them as a cult if people found out, despite the lack of reverence they showed him.

 

And it certainly wouldn't help the reputation of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons if people found out how much Alcor the Dreambender enjoyed the game.

 

Or maybe it would. Who knew. The people who played D, D, & More D tended to be an odd bunch.

 

Plus, the benefits to having a demon as part of your group were not to be lightly cast aside.

 

Especially one who could be easily bribed, even if he needed reined in at times.

 

“Right – everybody ready?” he asked the group at hand. “We're going hardcore this week. Adam, you good? I know you were sick last week.”

 

“I am so ready!” Adam declared. “Thanks for keeping it low key for me last week, though.”

 

“No prob. Okay, here goes. Al, do your thing.”

 

Alcor grinned, and the world around them faded away into blue and purple sparkles.

 

 

When the sparkles cleared, they started to brush themselves off, looking around.

 

Whatever Alcor did transported them into the game, onto the map where they'd left off.

 

Tall trees surrounded them, with a dirt road underfoot leading off into the distance. Birdsong floated in the air, along with the smells of forest, wet dirt and trees hitting them after the air conditioned apartment.

 

Their clothes had been replaced by the clothes their characters had been wearing (there had been a few frantic edits to character sheets thanks to that detail after the first time they'd tried this) along with changes to make them match their character's species if they were playing anything other than a human.

 

Alcor, the team bard, fixed his hat, now a feathered ranged hat, and adjusted the strap for his fiddle case.

 

“Shall we?” he asked. “Mark, where were we?”

 

“Marching through the woods,” Mark announced from above. He alone wasn't in the forest, as the Dungeon Master needed to be able to see the entire board at one go. He leaned over, his face appearing overhead, as there was no sky to block their little world from reality.

 

Alcor had tried to explain how it worked, but everyone had just given up after awhile. “Let's go! Hey, bard, how about some marching music?” Mark announced.

 

Alcor laughed and raised his bow, but the music that poured forth headed into the uncanny valley within five feet of walking.

 

“...how about something a bit less eldritch?” Adam asked after another ten feet.

 

Alcor grinned. “No.”

 

 

The uncool part of having a demon make your D, D, & More D experience all-immersive was when you took damage, he tended to forget that humans didn't find pain as hilarious as he did.

 

At least he modified it when they reminded him so it was unpleasant but not painful anymore – and dying just kicked them out of the game. Noah and Dillian, though, were pretty sure Alcor hadn't modified it all that much when it came to himself. Which...creeped them out too much to dwell on.

 

 

It had basically gone without saying that the original group was never going to tell anyone about their newest player. In fact, they had pretty much decided, once they had begun summoning Alcor regularly, that they were probably never going to have any other new members.

 

It was a risk, to bring in someone new when one of your members was an actual, literal demon. Not just in how they reacted to that, but in who they told, and what could happen afterward.

 

None of them felt like living through an exorcism for the 'sin' of playing D, D, and More D, or for being around this particular demon.

 

It wasn't like they were the first people Alcor had hung around with.

 

 

So when Adam came to the weekly session with a request to join them in hand, the crew was faced with a dilemma.

 

Did they trust the new person, or not? What could they say to convince people not to join them? Hell, what did they say if they did want people to join them?

 

They were still discussing it when Alcor showed up, having not come to even the slightest conclusion.

 

“I could pretend to be human,” Alcor offered. “I mean, I've done it before.”

 

“No offense, I mean I'm sure you could pass for awhile, but it's not really fair for us to ask you to do that,” Noah said. “Not to mention what'd happen when they found out we were hiding a demon. I guess we just figured none of us would ever have to figure this out – I mean, it's been awhile since anyone wanted to join the game.”

 

Alcor grimaced. “Oh, yeah. Always has been hard to find people to play with...” He kicked back in the air, floating idly, legs crossed and arms behind his head, deceptively casual. “So...”

 

“We're not kicking you out,” Mark said grumpily. “You're part of the group, so quit it. Okay guys, we're not technically a cult, but we've got a demon. Adam, does whoever this is have problems with the supernatural?”

 

“I really don't know,” Adam said, head tilting back as he thought. “I mean, he never said anything, but I don't really know him all that well, yanno? That kind of stuff isn't what most people bring up when you first meet 'em.”

 

“Well, you'd better find out,” Mark said. “I don't think any of us want to deal with some racist at our games.”

 

 

Whatever test Adam's friend, Erik, had to pass for Adam to trust him, he apparently passed it, as he was at the game three weeks after he'd first requested to join them.

 

Dipper had used the time to convince everyone that he was going to pretend to be human at first, that it was _fine_ , he'd done it before and he'd be revealed when they knew they could trust Erik.

 

 

The first hint they had that it might not be a good idea to keep Erik around came when he refused to play anything other than a human.

 

Of course, that could be nothing. Everyone had their preferences.

 

Alcor liked to insist on playing a Bard, after all.

 

It was just...the way Erik demanded to play a human that left a bad taste in the other player's mouths. The comment that  _of course_ he'd be playing a human, what else could possibly be worth playing.

 

The small, disparaging comments about the races of everyone else's characters didn't help either.

 

But it really wasn't anything bad per say, just annoying. Not really something they could call out and say dude, that's not cool.

 

Which was really the most annoying part of all of it – it felt like he was skirting the edges of something, but never outright saying it.

 

Erik never really seemed to say anything outside the game itself, so they wrote it off as playing a character, although Alcor seemed to still be leery of him, putting off revealing himself week after week.

 

Despite the little things, Erik was a fairly good player, so he kept coming and nobody really felt like they had any reason to kick him out.

 

 

Alcor may have still been pretending to be human, but things were going well enough that when they got another request to join the game, they decided to just go for it.

 

In for a penny, right?

 

Besides, Alcor was cool with it, even voted 'yes' when it came up.

 

 

Mark, who'd gotten the request, had forgotten to tell the rest of the group that their new recruit wasn't human.

 

Not that five out of the six players cared – they'd been playing with a demon before Erik came along...still were, though he had no idea – so a Kitsune?

 

Not a big deal. Really not even a deal at all, beyond a momentary 'Oh, cool' reaction from the four humans, who hadn't really had a chance to hang around with anyone who was a Kitsune before, but didn't care beyond that, ready to give Elena a try and see if she meshed personality wise.

 

Erik, though... “What's that doing here?” he demanded almost as soon as Elena had been introduced and everyone had registered what she was as the two tails that peeked out the bottom of her skirt gave her away in an instant, in the tone of voice one would use to demand to know why some disgusting object had been placed in front of them.

 

“Dude, what the hell?” Dillian exclaimed, the other three humans too shocked to speak, while the non humans, both overt and covert, watched with guarded eyes.

 

“What?” Erik said, looking at the others with surprise. “I mean, come on, you can't really want to play with...with...”

 

He gestured toward Elena, who was looking down at the ground, hand behind her neck, shifting uncomfortably. “I mean, it's all fine and progressive to hire them and all, but to hang out with one?”

 

“Maybe I should just go...” Elena said, inching towards the door, head still down and eyes averted.

 

“No, you shouldn't,” Mark said, “But Erik should. Now. And not bother coming back.”

 

Erik looked genuinely shocked, gaping at Mark, looking at the others for backup.

 

He didn't find any, as everyone else in the group was looking at him with disgust.

 

Erik scowled and began to gather his things, loud and rough and deliberate. “Can't believe you'd choose _that_ over me,” he growled as he shoved his things in his bag. “See if you can actually play a decent campaign with something like that dragging you down.”

 

He stormed out of the apartment, and it was deathly silent inside for a minute as the echoes of his exit reverberated.

 

“Wish we'd known about that sooner,” Mark commented. “Could've saved a lot of time. Um, so Elena, this is Noah, and Dillian, and Adam, and Tyrone. Got a character ready?”

 

“Uh...yeah, I did, but...”

 

“Great, you can sit by Tyrone. I went ahead and wrote you into the campaign, just as soon as we finish fighting the dragon from last week, should we all survive. And speaking of which, oh horrors, it seems Sir Tinkelm Netheraxe has just been eaten by the dragon.”

 

“I roll to see if he gave the dragon indigestion,” Tyrone interjected, to general laughter, the tension easing as Mark answered, “Oh, definitely,” without bothering to glance at the dice.

 

“I take advantage of the dragon's distraction!” Noah exclaimed.

 

 

Elena got along well with the rest of the group, after a bit of a settling in period. She was as mischievous as kitsune were rumored to be, and she and Tyrone played well off each other.

 

So well, in fact, that they decided to broach the idea of 'Tyrone isn't human' with her, something they'd never felt comfortable even thinking about telling Erik (who was currently trying to spread rumors about them to everyone he knew, but as the original four players were outspoken, their version of reality was being spread just as far and wide as the rumors, they weren't having the effect Erik had hoped).

 

“I...kind of figured Tyrone wasn't human,” Elena admitted when they brought the subject up. “No offense, Tyrone, but you don't always...manage to fake it.”

 

Tyrone shrugged, careless and easy, but was still pouting. “I've heard that before,” he admitted.

 

Elena waited for a few more moments, before prompting “So...you gonna tell me what you are, if not human?”

 

“You're probably going to freak out,” Mark admitted. “It took us awhile to get used to him being around ourselves.”

 

“Wow, really building it up here,” Elena laughed. She sobered quickly when she glanced around and saw how deathly serious everyone else was. “What, that bad?”

 

“We...could get in a lot of trouble if you don't take this well,” Adam admitted, playing fretfully with his die. “It's that serious.”

 

Elena looked around at them all, her eyes settling on Tyrone for a long minute.

 

“You promise not to freak out or tell anyone about what you've learned here, and we'll tell you,” Tyrone said. “You don't have to keep coming if it upsets you, just not tell.”

 

“...you're lucky I like all of you, and that you're good at this game,” Elena finally said. “Okay. It's a deal. But if it's that major you might have to give me time to get used to it.”

 

“That's fair,” Mark said, giving Tyrone a quick look. “Okay, so it all started when we were playing a game and I wanted to give things a little extra realism, okay? Which probably wasn't the best idea, but...”

 

 

The story didn't take that long to tell, really. Even explaining why they'd kept calling Alcor for Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons, while seeming a bit silly in retrospect, didn't have much explanation to it beyond 'he's really good at the game and made it fun'.

 

When they were done, Elena sat silently, staring at Tyrone...at Alcor...with far off eyes as she processed what she'd heard.

 

“So...not some kind of elaborate scheme to get your claws on our souls?” she finally asked. “Really just here for D, D, and more D?”

 

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a party when you're a demon?” Alcor tossed back. “Heck yes I'm just here for the game. Are you still in?”

 

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a party when you're a Kitsune?” she gave back, echoing his words. “I'll probably have a proper freakout later. You know. When it sinks in that I'm friends with the world's most powerful demon.”

 

 

To the group's surprise, Elena did come back the next week, claiming that Alcor had been acting weird enough when he was just 'Tyrone' she figured she could keep coming and handle 'Alcor' the same.

 

She was a little jumpy, admittedly, but as most of them had been for a good while until they got used to Alcor, they let it pass without comment.

 

It took awhile, and for once Alcor was a bit aware of mortals, enough to ease into being himself bit by bit, until he was again floating above the table and could bring up the idea of returning to their former method of playing.

 

Much could be said about how easily one could get used to a new normal in how quickly Elena agreed.

 

 

For a time, they were sure this was going to be the core group, and that they were only going to get new players now and again. Most who tried to join didn't last long, a few weeks to a couple of months at most before life took its toll and they didn't have time to play the long, involved campaigns Alcor and Mark came up with.

 

And they really didn't mind. Finding someone to accept Alcor...that wasn't easy, and they wanted to keep playing the demonically enhanced game whenever possible.

 

 

They had hopes about their newest player, though. Maybe this time they'd stick around long enough to be introduced to the real Tyrone.

 

A proper Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons group wasn't too big, but one more person might be nice...if they'd stick to it.

 

Well, Katrina claimed they had experience playing the game and were dying to play a proper campaign again, so Tyrone slipped into his human guise (and it was still so strange for them all to see him that way, with brown eyes and blunt teeth and rounded ears, sitting in the chair like a person) and gave another human a try.

 

And to general surprise, Katrina was sticking with it. Even Tyrone's oddness (because while Alcor could pretend to be human for awhile, it always started to crack under scrutiny if he kept it up for too long) didn't send her screaming.

 

 

This time, they tested the waters by bringing up Alcor in conversation, a roundabout way to see if their newest player would freak out over the idea of the demon (and the idea that they might have accidentally used his circle in a campaign one time).

 

The reaction was...not what they expected.

 

“Alcoooor...” Katrina cooed, hands clasped and eyes wide. She obviously felt the stares on her a second later and blushed brightly. “Ahem. Sorry. I know the reality's different, but...I kind of...fell into the whole Twin Souls thing? Heh, fandom versus reality, am I right?”

 

“You're a Twinner?” Tyrone asked in dismay, and everyone in the know winced.

 

“Hey, we've all got things we're not proud of,” Katrina said sharply, crossing her arms. “Don't act like you don't have secrets too.”

 

Tyrone winced and flopped back into his seat, muttering, “I _hate_ those books. Mizar's his sister, dammit.”

 

“Right...” Mark said slowly. “Let's get to the game...”

 

 

Tyrone kept putting off the reveal, and most of them had a pretty good idea that it was because Katrina was still unrepentant about the whole 'Twin Souls' thing.

 

It was only confirmed when the big reveal finally happened and Katrina was struck dumb, blushing and staring at Alcor for an awkwardly long time.

 

“Right, let's just play,” Alcor said after an awkward five minutes had passed, looking away and with a faint blush brushed over his own cheeks. “Maybe she'll snap out of it after awhile.”

 

 

(It took almost an hour before Katrina recovered her composure. Stopping the random blushing when she looked at Alcor and remembered particularly spicy fanfiction took much, much longer.)


	97. Get You Under Your Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paintmosi: I'd love to see more one shots of alcor + maeve/soirese and the kids. :)
> 
> Note: Maeve = R!Mabel, Saoirse = R!Pacifica, pronunciation for Saoirse is found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=znCXvlhYV-Y; 
> 
> A series of vignettes for the "Horror Movie Bound to Get You In" twins and their friends.

It took a while, after the whole 'we nearly had to see Mr. Tyrone be burned alive by a crazy cult but it turns out he's Alcor the Dreambender and he was the whole time' incident, for what had happened to really sink in.

 

Everyone who'd been there had accepted it at the time, but they were also in a bit of shock and had just been accepting everything as it happened.

 

At least Mr. Tyrone...or did he want to be called Alcor now, in private? He still answered to 'Mr. Tyrone' and 'Mr. Spruce' in public so...at least they knew he wasn't going to hurt them. He was going to protect them, no matter what.

 

But it was still a bit of an adjustment.

 

Some, like Gabriela, mostly seemed to take it in stride. There had always been something a little off about Mr. Tyrone, and a bit of research said that while Alcor was unpredictable, he had never voluntarily harmed a child.

 

Some...to be precise, Aaron...weren't satisfied with the explanation of 'Mr. Tyrone is Alcor' and wanted to know more, to know things that weren't online (or were blocked by parental locks until they were older).

 

If Dipper had thought Aaron was persistent before, it was nothing compared to now.

 

Aaron was a smart kid, so he didn't ask any of the Spruce family questions in public or where they might be overheard...but he had a lot of questions, and sometimes he would simply follow Dipper around the Spruce house, peppering the demon with question after question.

 

“Why're you connected to Mizar?” “Where do demons live? When they aren't like you and can live in the real world, I mean.” “What about familiars? Do all demons have them?” “Why are you pretending to be human? Did you do this before? Do you do it a lot?” “Why do you always ask for candy instead of blood? Not that I want to change that, I just, you know. Demons, blood.”

 

Dipper wasn't sure how Aaron explained his sudden increase of candy purchases to his parents. But he wouldn't, couldn't, answer all of Aaron's questions without some kind of compensation.

 

And there were some he couldn't answer yet, and wouldn't answer without a much more substantial bribe.

 

 

Eventually, by general consensus, without needing to speak of it, everyone who knew Mr. Tyrone's secret decided to keep calling him Mr. Tyrone, even in private, in case they slipped up in public.

 

 

Nobody in town was really surprised when the Spruce family suddenly had dogs. After what had happened, out in the woods...most folks were just grateful everyone involved seemed to be coping so well.

 

They'd sent a party out there the day after everyone had been found, and...well. It looked like things could have gone much, much worse, but with everyone's stories matching up to the injuries they'd sported, no one had cared to do much more save a bit of cleaning.

 

Everyone doubted Alcor would come back – it had been one small cult, and the demon had dealt with it, quite thoroughly if the wreckage was to be believed.

 

As for everyone who'd been there...well, Mr. Spruce had suffered the worst of it, borne the brunt of the cult's anger, and he'd healed well.

 

But physical wounds healed easier than some emotional ones, so the dogs weren't a surprise.

 

They were huge dogs, which some people thought was a bit of an overreaction, but Tyrone claimed he'd used to breed them and felt the most comfortable with them.

 

Some kind of poodle cross he claimed, though from the looks of it they were crossed with something wild and untamable, huge black dogs with far too many teeth that stood taller than some of the children.

 

Mixed among them, however, were a few tiny white ones with coats soft and fluffy, adorable as puppies.

 

Some of the parents worried about sending their kids over there with those huge dogs, even though they'd thought it best to let the kids reassure themselves that Mr. Tyrone was really going to be okay.

 

At least, they worried until they saw first hand how unfailingly patient Mr. Tyrone's new dogs were with the children, how they hung on his every word and obeyed him instantly.

 

It was really a pity that Mr. Tyrone wouldn't share his training secrets.

 

 

The dogs liked to sit with the children when they watched movies at Mr. Tyrone's.

 

Of course, with the size of most of Mr. Tyrone's dogs, it was more sit on or be sat on when it came to sitting with the children, but they were big and comforting so unless they were the ones doing the sitting everyone rather enjoyed having them there.

 

It may not have been true for normal dogs, but everyone agreed that Mr. Tyrone's dogs did, in fact, watch the movies and follow the plots, and enjoyed them as much as the attention.

 

 

The kids themselves weren't quite sure what Mr. Tyrone's dogs were, but they knew they weren't dogs. Mr. Tyrone did explain, in a sort of roundabout way, but...it was easier to keep thinking of them as special dogs.

 

 

Now that all the kids knew about Mr. Tyrone, it seemed like he wasn't trying as hard to hide what he was.

 

That, or the strain of keeping up the masquerade was getting to him, possibly aided by the fact that the kids knew they weren't just seeing things anymore.

 

They talked about it when they were at Mr. Tyrone's house, but never anywhere else, in case someone overheard them. Mostly, the kids talked about it with Saoirse and Maeve, rather than their dad, in case he took it wrong.

 

Plus, demon or not, he was still an adult. They'd go to him with questions eventually, just not yet (save Aaron, whose parents were finally starting to question the amount of candy he'd been buying lately and had to cut back, to his great frustration).

 

But living with him, having Alcor as their dad...Saoirse and Maeve were the unofficial demon experts, and since Mr. Tyrone would have to charge the rest for answers for most of their questions...the twins got asked first.

 

It was how they all figured out that Saoirse and Maeve's meters for 'normal' were...off.

 

That they didn't come from a good place before Mr. Tyrone adopted them – and it was a fairly violent and abrupt 'adoption' – and that Mr. Tyrone was trying, but he forgot how to 'people' sometimes.

 

And, well...it wasn't really fair to force him to pretend to be human all the time.

 

But no one really got what a strain it could be until later.

 

Not until Isabel and Carmen spotted Mr. Tyrone and his kids at the grocery store. Their parents hadn't seen the trio yet, and the kids were about to go say hi when Mr. Tyrone paused.

 

His face scrunched up, and he gasped a few quick breaths before letting out a series of tiny, kittenish sneezes.

 

And on the last, most powerful (though still ridiculously tiny and twee, was that really how Mr. Tyrone – how Alcor the Dreambender – sneezed?) a set of tiny bat wings popped out of his lower back.

 

Mr. Tyrone sniffled, having apparently not yet noticed the wings, and Saoirse and Maeve were looking at something else, not noticing their dad's predicament.

 

But Isabel and Carmen had. Mr. Tyrone spotted them, wiping his nose with a handkerchief and raising his free hand to wave.

 

They gestured frantically to his back, miming towards their own backs and flapping their arms, trying to convey 'wings' without drawing attention.

 

Mr. Tyrone watched them with amused confusion, his tiny wings twitching (they weren't that small the last time they'd seen Mr. Tyrone in his full demon glory, why were they so small? More importantly, why were they there at all? ...why were they so cute?).

 

Thankfully Maeve turned to put something in the cart and saw Isabel and Carmen, watched them for a few moments in confusion before understanding dawned, and saw her dad's wings.

 

She grabbed his arm to whisper frantically in his ear, and his eyes went wide before the wings disappeared with a tiny _pop,_ only seconds before Isabel and Carmen's parents turned and saw him, and three kids heaved a sigh of relief.

 

Seriously, though, Mr. Tyrone was an adult, and he said he'd done this whole 'pretending to be human' routine before...shouldn't he have that kind of thing under control by now?

 

 

They years passed, and having a demon around was more surprisingly mundane than most of them had anticipated.

 

Of course, it might have been a bit different if they were living with Mr. Tyrone, but they all got used to his quirks fairly quickly. It was surprising, really, how fast things became the new normal.

 

But aside from a few...quirks...Mr. Tyrone did have enough practice to pass as human...mostly. When he tried.

 

Sometimes, it was hard to remember that it was actually Alcor, the Dreambender, and not just someone's dad. He was at the PTA meetings, he was at the park, he looked and acted like a dad, and there would be periods where each of them would just...forget.

 

Then something, some little quirk, something not quite human, would remind them, and it would be odd all over again to watch him move among the other adults and know he was a demon and no one else suspected.

 

 

Despite Mr. Tyrone's repeated assertions that unicorns were absolute jerks, Maeve, Saoirse, Gabriela, and Aaron were fascinated with them.

 

Mostly because of a popular kid's show featuring magical knights and their unicorn companions, true, but still fascinated.

 

Admittedly, part of it was simple curiosity, wondering why they were pictured as magical, delicate, pure, etheral creatures while Mr. Tyrone maintained (and places online backed up) that the European ones, at least, were by and large jerks.

 

(Going online also brought out things about Alcor, the cults, the death, the blood, and it was terrifying, but...most of them weren't the best at reading people yet, especially adults, but there had been a definite feeling of 'waiting for rejection' from Maeve and Saoirse and Mr. Tyrone, and Mr. Tyrone was a good dad to the twins and still was good to the rest of them without asking for anything in return so...)

 

Still, it was nice to find someone who was willing to tell them the truth about things...even if they had to bribe him with sweets.

 

There were rumors that Alcor could change his shape at will, but none of them, not even Maeve or Saoirse, were quite willing to ask it of him.

 

He probably would, but...well. Some things they just weren't ready to ask yet.

 

 

As Maeve and Saoirse grew older, Alcor started telling them more of the history of their souls. The things Mizar and Yacana had done in their previous lives, the fights and the victories and the losses, but he kept repeating over and over that they didn't have to do those same things, that he didn't expect them to do the same things.

 

That their lives were their own, and they didn't have to do things just because they had once chosen that life.

 

It had the ring to it of a lecture Alcor had received himself a few times in the past, though for now, they simply listened and stored it away for later.

 

 

For most of the kids, they hoped that the incident with the cult in the woods was the only interaction with cults they were going to have. It had been terrible, and some of them still, even now as they hit full teenager, had nightmares about that day and what had almost happened.

 

Most of them also did their best not to think about what had happened to the people of that cult, agreeing among themselves that they didn't want to know, it was enough to know Mr. Tyrone had made sure they couldn't hurt anyone else.

 

But it wasn't enough for Aaron, Gabriela, Maeve, or Saoirse, who remembered all to well how afraid they had been that day, and how helpless they had felt, and wanted something more than to forget.

 

Mr. Tyrone was, unsurprisingly, reluctant to take them on any cult bashing missions, but he did agree to eventually supply them with weapons if they got themselves trained in how to fight.

 

Because yes, Aaron, they did have a demon to back them up, but things still went wrong and they may trust him but that wasn't a good reason to get into a situation where they needed to do something drastic to get out now was it?

 

 

It seemed as if, now that they knew Mr. Tyrone was a demon, more odd things were determined to happen to them.

 

Oh, it was just little things at first, but they all were getting more involved in the Supernatural community, and Aaron and Gabriela and Maeve and Saoirse were training how to fight cults, and Mr. Tyrone was Alcor the bloody Dreambender, so really, they shouldn't have been surprised when they heard about another cult nearby, one that was far too close to a growing bevy of swan maidens for anyone's peace of mind.

 

Of course, they wouldn't have heard anything about it if Mr. Tyrone were better at keeping his emotions to himself, but he wasn't, and they figured it out.

 

Honestly, with all the practice he'd had at trying to blend in, Mr. Tyrone really should have been better at that by now than he was.

 

A demon should be better at keeping secrets...or at least, keeping the fact that he had a secret.

 

Keeping the secret itself he was good at, and if it had been something serious, Mr. Tyrone would have kept them out of it.

 

But, well...it wasn't, really. It was serious, but after some debate, he decided it was a good dip into the whole cult busting game, an easier mission to let the foursome get their feet wet.

 

Not that there was really any 'safe' mission. But well, there was a difference between 'murderous cult bent on world domination and willing to kill everyone in their way' and 'newbie cult that doesn't know what they're doing yet'.

 

This particular one seemed to be under the impression that if you separated a swan maiden from her cloak either she would marry you, or you would be able to use the cloak yourself.

 

Honestly, all Dipper had to do was disable their weapons and return the cloaks and he'd be well rewarded with the chaos that comes from underestimating something that looked harmless.

 

Swan maidens may _look_ delicate, but like their full swan counterparts, they could break a man's arm with little effort and look graceful and majestic while doing so.

 

It was going to be glorious chaos.

 

The question was, who to take along on this mission...

 

...eh, what the hell. He was a demon. Surely he could keep track of four teenagers, right?

 

 

Wrong.

 

Despite his instructions to the contrary, somehow, they'd been separated.

 

Maeve had gone charging in when she saw the pile of swan maiden's cloaks, her sister hot on her heels to draw her back, and been caught, with Gabriela following soon after.

 

At least there was the small satisfaction of knowing that they had, in fact, taken quite a few swan maiden cloaks with them, hidden in various pockets they'd made a deal with Mr. Tyrone to made almost as bottomless as his hat for the day, and that they were being mistaken for cygnet swan maidens and put in with the rest.

 

Now, though...it looked like it was up to Alcor and Aaron to either destroy all the cultists (a bad idea, even if every instinct was screaming at Dipper to find his kids now now NOW, he had another kid with him, he couldn't traumatize this one just to get the others back) or...create a diversion.

 

It seemed Aaron had been waiting for this.

 

“Hey, Mr. ...Alcor, change shape!” he prompted, “A unicorn!”

 

When Dipper looked at him as if he'd lost his mind, Aaron clarified, “It's Maeve's idea! You've showed up at summons in all kinds of shapes but not some of the cool ones like a unicorn. And who'd expect a demonic unicorn? We need a diversion, don't we?”

 

Dipper glared at him for a second before huffing and rolling his eyes. “That sounds like Mizar all right...” he muttered. Aaron was still looking up at him with huge, pleading eyes (only looking up at Dipper because the demon was floating, why were all his kids getting so _tall_ ) and Dipper groaned. “Okay, fine. Why do I keep doing this I don't even...”

 

He continued his faux grumbling even as his form shifted and changed. Aaron was forced to look away until the change was complete, his stomach rebelling at the unnatural scene.

 

Aaron gave a soft “Yes!” when the change was complete, swinging himself up onto Dipper's back to Dipper's utter shock.

 

“Do you _mind?_ ” he snapped, twisting to look at the young teen on his back.

 

“C'mon, just give me this one?' Aaron asked pleadingly. Dipper glared at him for a few seconds before sighing heavily.

 

“Ugh. You've spent too much time with those fantasy books and around Mizar,” he grumbled, knowing privately that in Aaron's place, he'd have done the same.

 

And with that in mind, he reared, pawing the air with his front hooves before galloping into the heart of the warehouse, hooves kicking up sparks on the concrete floor and eyes leaving glowing trails, while Aaron screamed a mix of exhilaration and nerves on his back.

 

They burst into the room where the cultists had been congregating and into chaos.

 

Swans chased people about the room, half of whom were wearing robes while the other half were still in street clothes. Rather like Dipper had predicted, the swan maidens were using their swan forms to full effect, and he was fairly sure there was at least one broken limb out there already, as well as quite a few nasty wounds from powerful swan beaks backed by even more powerful necks. Swan necks may look graceful, but they were long stretches of pure muscle being powered by pure rage.

 

Dipper skidded to a halt, rearing again as he came to an abrupt stop lest he risk going head over heels.

 

For a second, all he and Aaron could do was stare, Aaron in shock, Alcor in appreciative glee. Then Alcor's eyes narrowed, sweeping the chaos until he found Maeve, Saoirse, and Gabriela, safe on the other side of the room cheering on the swan maidens.

 

“Hang on,” he called up to Aaron, feeling fingers tangle in his mane. He reared once more, thoroughly enjoying the sensation, before plunging into the fray.

 

If things had been chaotic before, adding a demonic unicorn to the mix did not calm the situation down.

 

Especially once the swan maidens realized he was the demon the girls had said would come to rescue them, clued in by their cheers, and began to incorporate him in their justified retribution as he galloped across the room.

 

Alcor pranced to a stop in front of the girls and Aaron slid off his back, legs giving out as soon as he'd hit the ground.

 

The girls began to clamor for a turn, and Dipper hesitated, looking back over the chaos, before giving the equine equivalent to a shrug.

 

The swan maidens didn't really need his help. Why not have a little fun?

 

 

Dipper didn't have a good grasp on time anymore, so he couldn't say how long he and the swan maidens terrorized the cult before finally letting them go, battered and bruised and with multiple broken limbs and lacerations.

 

Of course, Dipper could have made sure the cultists never left the building, but...this wasn't his revenge, or his story. He was only involved because of the memory of Hank and the Dinner Crew, of the four children who he'd been giving rides around the warehouse and who looked up at him with trusting eyes to do what was right, of a returned memory of what it meant to be human.

 

...he should probably look into how Lucy Ann and the Dinner Crew were doing, now that he had thought of them. If nothing else, they were someone these swan maidens might want to talk to.

 

For now, the children accepted the feathers they were given in thanks while Dipper accepted the nervous verbal thanks, firmly tamping down the instincts that demanded the swan maidens pay for his aid.

 

They really hadn't needed much, save reuniting them with their cloaks, and the girls had done that.

 

Still, the swan maidens owed him a favor now, and they all knew it.

 

Another reason to see if the Dinner Crew was doing well right now...Dipper could put these swans in touch with that group, and helping the Dinner Crew would be helping him, so he wouldn't be tempted.

 

The swan maidens hurried out, and the teens grinned up at Dipper.

 

“That. Was. Awesome!” Maeve declared, to general agreement, eyes shining with excitement.

 

Hoo boy. Dipper knew that look

 

His life was about to get a lot more interesting.


	98. Demon On Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prelliot on FF.net asked: Do u take prompts? Bc if so: someone jokingly tags alcor in the ice bucket challenge (i know, old news, but i dont care) and then he does it. the results are kind of hilarious
> 
> I had a specific image in my head, not entirely sure I got it to come out right. Still, hope it's enjoyed.

 

It wasn't often, but sometimes, a trend would come back into fashion, something that had once gone viral would be revived from the dead and go viral once again.

 

So it was for the ice-bucket challenge.

 

After the success of the campaign for ALS, someone had the bright idea of restarting it for supernatural awareness, under the slogan of 'like a fish out of water'.

 

It wasn't the catchiest slogan, but it caught on and grew and adapted as celebrity activists and politicians took the challenge.

 

Then, apparently as a joke, supernatural rights activist Pacifica Northwest tagged “The town of Gravity Falls, but mostly Alcor the Dreambender. Do it, dork. I dare you”.

 

And the tag caught on, with more and more people tagging the Dreambender to do the ice bucket challenge.

 

Most of the taggers were pro-nats, hoping the demon would be so insulted it would backlash against the entire movement and get it off their screens. Because what demon was going to douse themselves with ice cold water for a 'good' cause? Or a cause that helped anyone but themselves?

 

 

The Pines triplets had been quietly but firmly told time and again not to try looking their uncle up online. At least, not by his 'business' persona. They were too young yet to know about all the things he had done already as a demon, even if they may have felt old enough at twelve to know about these things.

 

They were allowed to look up his proper name, but there wasn't much to be found there – mostly people trying to get away with using his name and image for their causes despite the Pines parent's legal actions to prevent it, and that was depressing enough the triplets didn't do it often.

 

But they did follow their Aunt Pacifica and Aunt Wendy online. Mostly just their personal social media accounts, since some of the other things online got too nasty.

 

So when Aunt Pacifica tagged their uncle in the ice bucket challenge they were among the first to know.

 

Mayor Cutebiker was quick to talk Manly Dan and his kids into building a bucket challenge station, a contraption that basically amounted to a bucket slung between two tall poles and a platform to fill it on, something that made dousing each other and refilling the bucket quick and easy as a pull of a rope, as more and more residents began filming themselves doing it, to make it easier and so they could release a 'Gravity Falls Ice Bucket Challenge Compilation' video.

 

Their mom did it, of course – being tagged as part of 'Gravity Falls' was enough for Mabel to do something silly.

 

Their uncle was another story. A demon had to have some dignity, he claimed, and refused, despite Mabel's teasing.

 

But the triplets had inherited the Pines determination and, though it was a bit young to be sure, ruthlessness and determination.

 

And when tagging 'Alcor the Dreambender' went viral, they kept track. Each and every tag, kept in a notebook as a hashmark (they'd lived too long with a demon to give him people's names) unless there was an offer, no matter how spurious, made to give to the demon in exchange.

 

Oh, they knew by now they could talk their uncle into doing most things, but where was the fun in that? Plus, use that kind of power too often and even their dorky demon uncle would get immune to it sooner or later.

 

 

When the triplets had gathered ten thousand tags for the Dreambender to do the ice bucket challenge, they sought out their uncle.

 

The whole 'ice bucket' thing might have been beneath a demon's dignity (if it wasn't being filmed and put on the internet he would have done it already and they all knew it) but being _challenged_ was a whole other matter, and the triplets already knew that very well.

 

And ten thousand challenges, while they were done over the internet, likely in jest, were still ten thousand challenges.

 

“Oh Uncle Dip~per,” Acacia, almost always the instigator, called out as they caught sight of their uncle. “We have something to show you!”

 

Dipper plucked the papers carefully from their hands, looking it over with raised brow. “This wouldn't have anything to do with you three wanting to see me doused in ice water, would it?”

 

“It's a challenge!” Acacia argued. “Are you going to tell all these people you won't do it? Especially Aunt Pacifica?”

 

Dipper paused. The triplets knew for a fact that he'd been getting teased, just a bit, by their mom for not doing the challenge, though nowhere near the levels she could sometimes tease him.

 

Mabel did get the idea behind needing to maintain an image, after all. The teasing was just to make sure Dipper didn't take it too seriously.

 

Uncle Dipper was glaring at the paper now, eyes squinted as he examined it with suspicion radiating off him in waves.

 

“Aunt Wendy is challenging you too,” Hank piped up, holding up his phone with Wendy's ice bucket challenge video and the list of tags in the comments, calling for “The coolest demon I know” to do it.

 

Dipper looked at the phone in Hank's hands and at the paper in his own, eyes flickering back and forth rapidly.

 

The kitchen was silent but tense as the triplets watched their uncle calculate, demonic pride and hunger at the challenge versus their uncle's ego.

 

“...get your mom. We're going into town,” Dipper finally said, and the triplets cheered as they barreled through the house to find Mabel.

 

 

They met Dipper in town at the ice bucket station, pulling up as he inspected it casually.

 

“I got the camera! Scrapbook-ortunity!” Mabel announced cheerfully. “Let's fill up that bucket and soak a demon!”

 

Being that this was Gravity Falls, the triplets laying out their uncle's circle and making a deal with him to be physical for the challenge only got a second glance because it was beside the Ice Bucket Challenge station.

 

“Hey kids, I thought you did this a week ago,” Mayor Cutebiker asked laughingly from across the street, head tilted and hands on hips.

 

“We did but Uncle Dipper didn't,” Acacia called back as Hank and Willow finished up the deal with Dipper. “We've got over ten thousand challenges for Alcor to do the Ice Bucket!”

 

“Oooh, I'll bet they never thought he'd even see that, let alone do it,” Uncle Tyler said, walking over to them. “You kids got your cameras all ready? And the Falls camera?”

 

“We're all set, Uncle Tyler. Wanna stick around and watch?” Hank asked. Dipper waved to Mayor Cutebiker before floating off to check on Mabel, and Tyler waved back before answering.

 

“You bet I do! Git it, kids!” Uncle Tyler chanted. “Git it, git it!” The triplets laughed and marched to man the cameras, chanting along with him as they went.

 

Dipper floated down to to the target painted on the ground, glancing up at the cameras pointed at him.

 

Hank waved, letting him know they were on and ready, and Dipper sighed. “Right. This one is for Pacifica Northwest, Wendy Corduroy, and everyone else they got to tag me in this ridiculous challenge. You know who you are. This is your fault and I'm holding you responsible.”

 

He turned, looking up at the bucket platform, out of the camera's line of sight. “You ready up there, Miz-” he was cut off mid sentence by a torrent of water, a veritable cascade, far more than a simple bucket should have held.

 

Alcor screeched, clawed fingers curling as he drew in on himself, wings flaring wide, freezing at the shock in the torrent.

 

The water seemed to last far longer than a usual dousing, and when it was over, one thoroughly soaked demon was left floating there, hair and suit plastered to his body, bits of ice caught in his hair.

 

He stood frozen a few seconds more, hands drawn up to his chin, claws splayed, eyes wide with tiny pinpricks of golden light at their centers, before he shook himself like a cat from head to toe, wings buzzing frantically, so fast they were a blur and made a soft buzz.

 

As soon as he'd finished shaking himself off Alcor burst into his signature blue flames, a quick flash of fire from head to toe.

 

Alcor floated, panting, for a few more seconds, wings pulsing softly, before he gave himself another shake, a full body shiver with a utterly undignified noise.

 

“I hate you all,” he announced, almost drowned out by his family's laughter.

 

(The video went viral, dissected by confused and frustrated scientists, while thousands of people waited for retribution while thousands more woke to find candy, ice cream, or whatever else they had promised the Dreambender in exchange for doing the challenge gone missing.)


	99. Demon Approved (Or...not)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Readerdreamer5625 on chapter 34 – Haha! I'd like to see a chapter about Richard signing up a small contract with Dipper to attempt and destroy Twin Souls once and for all... and then they find out, apparently when demonic things happen around the actor playing as the aforementioned demon, people start to think that said demon actually agrees and supports the movie.

 

The filming had been going...okay, ever since Alcor had agreed to stop messing with it so they could just finish the damn thing.

 

The bi-weekly drink and bitch fests with Alcor (Richard had needed to cut them back, as that amount of drinking once a week was just a bit much for him and his liver at this point) helped more than Richard liked to admit.

 

At least someone felt the same way he did about these movies.

 

Richard didn't remember exactly when, but during one of those drink and bitch sessions, he and Alcor began to lament the existence of the series as a whole, and of the fandom in general.

 

The rants they both went on tended to end up on familiar lines when they got to that point, comparing the fans who wanted to be ravished by the Dreambender to the fans of the movie that continuously bothered Richard.

 

That seemed like a very bad idea to Richard on a multitude of levels.

 

 

So far, it was only Richard and Alcor at these drink and bitch sessions. For the rest of the cast, this movie was either something they had actually wanted to do for reasons beyond Richard's understanding, or something they were able to laugh about – probably because they weren't the main focus of the movie, so they weren't getting all the irrational fans up in their business.

 

As for the crew...most of them were too suspicious and superstitious to go drinking with a demon. Richard had a feeling a few of the people in the props and costuming department who had to deal with the practical effects of fake wings and the like were beginning to contemplate joining him.

 

Still, there wasn't anyone outside cast and crew who knew about the sessions he had with Alcor, and of those it was still only the ones who'd been there when he'd agreed in the first place after they'd summoned Alcor to 'de-curse' the movie.

 

At least, Richard didn't think anyone else knew.

 

 

Then, as he was sitting in the makeup chair listening to the artist fuss – there had been a few minor changes ever since they had seen the real Alcor, and apparently, nothing the hairstylist did was getting his hair to be a floofy as the original's, and the contacts were still giving all of them fits – Richard found out otherwise.

 

“Hey there,” Crystal, his co-star, chirped as she leaned her hip on the edge of the makeup counter. She sobered after her customary cheerful greeting, which was odd enough that both Richard and the makeup artist glanced at her. “So...you might want to check this out.”

 

She tossed a magazine into Richard's lap gently. “I saw it this morning – or I should say I was given this this morning.”

 

The makeup artist gave a soft “Oh dear...” when they saw the magazine's cover, while Richard stared at it speechlessly, his mind stuck trying to reconnect to reality with the overwhelming noise of a modem trying to connect to dial up.

 

FRIENDSHIP BLOOMS BETWEEN DEMON AND ACTOR, the headline proclaimed. In smaller font, it continued, END OF DEMON'S HATRED FOR FAMOUS SERIES?

 

“Oh, he is not gonna like this,” Richard muttered. “What even...how did they...?”

 

“Better read the article before you freak out,” Crystal advised. “That way you won't waste all that anger before you get to the good bits.”

 

“Has anyone shown this to the producers?” Richard demanded, flipping the magazine open to the article in question. “I know they wanted PR from this kinda thing, but rumors about Alcor actually being involved aren't going to help!” He skimmed the first few sentences before flopping back into the makeup chair. “Oh, he is gonna flip out. He hates Twin Souls. More than me.”

 

“And I didn't think anyone could hate it more than you did,” Crystal quipped. She shrugged when Richard cracked open an eye to glare at her, unrepentant. “It's not like you made a secret of it. We all know. Hell, anyone who watches the movie's probably going to know...or maybe not, it seems to work on set. Grumpypants,” she added, poking Richard's nose with a little “Boop!”

 

Richard wrinkled said nose, batting her hand away. “I'm serious,” he said. “Do you have another copy of this? I think I'd better show it to Alcor before he finds out through somebody else, or he may decide to start messing with the set again to prove he still hates this movie.”

 

Crystal and the makeup artist both winced and Crystal relinquished the magazine without more questions.

 

They'd all suffered enough for Alcor's hatred of this franchise, no point in poking the mollified demon.

 

 

Richard brought the magazine up the next time he saw Alcor, laying it on the table as soon as the demon appeared in his apartment.

 

“I'm getting the booze,” he announced, standing. “You...might want to have a look at that.”

 

He ignored the confused demon in favor of pouring out drinks – Alcor was, surprisingly, an utter lightweight when it came to alcohol, so Richard usually kept it to beer and ales, but considering the contents of that article...he'd felt it best to stock up on a few harder bottles.

 

Judging from the words coming from his living room, Richard was going to be dealing with one drunk demon tonight. He just really hoped Mizar would forgive him...and knew what to do for a drunk demon because he only knew how to deal with a tipsy one.

 

 

Sometime during that evening, the topics of sequels and fangirls came up.

 

Richard's contract locked him into sequels, should the first movie prove lucrative enough to push through to doing the other books.

 

And despite – or, perhaps, because of – the controversy surrounding the books, a sequel to this movie based upon the next book of the series was already being adapted from the novel in anticipation.

 

As for the fangirls...well. Richard was keeping far away from the online talk of the series, but the more outspoken ones hadn't been discouraged by his obvious lack of interest or enthusiasm.

 

Richard didn't think they'd actually made a deal, but...last night was a bit of a blur. He knew for certain that the sequels had been brought up, and complaining about Twin Souls fans that took things too far was common fare for drink-and-bitch nights, but after that...

Probably not his best idea ever to get actually drunk with a demon, but...well...the demon had gotten drunk first.

 

Richard had really underestimated how little it would take to get Alcor drunk, despite knowing the demon was a lightweight. He was a demon, shouldn't he be able to handle alcohol better than that?

 

At least he was decent enough to leave (or drop off before Richard woke up, Richard didn't really care which) Mizar's hangover cure. It was far too brightly colored and glittery for Richard's taste, and he wouldn't have drunk it except...he did have to go in for shooting today, and he was desperate.

 

...all things considered, the cure was surprisingly pleasant, and efficient.

 

Though Richard was still a bit groggy and fuzzy headed when he headed in to the studio, it wasn't anything near what he'd felt like when he'd woke up sprawled over his bed with pounding head and scuzzy mouth.

 

It was nothing a bit of caffeine wouldn't fix.

 

After awhile, Richard began to wonder if Mizar's hangover cure really worked, since he could have sworn he saw Alcor hanging about in the edges of the shoot now and again out of the corner of his eye.

 

Except Richard knew he didn't have a hangover the next day, when he kept catching glances of Alcor (or things that looked like Alcor, he hoped they were just shadows that looked like Alcor and not the real demon) out of the corner of his eye as they wrapped up that day's filming.

 

And again, the day after. And the day after that.

 

By the time the week was over, Richard was suspicious. By the time the second week was drawing to a close, he was certain something was going on, though given it was a demon, it was hard to tell just what that something might be.

 

But his coworkers were creeped out (Alcor may have been trying to be unobtrusive, but he'd stepped onto the physical plane a few times too many for anyone to dismiss the shiver on the back of their necks, the certainty that they were being watched, as anything other than his influence) and Richard was fairly sure sooner or later someone off set was going to realize he was being followed by a demon.

 

It was hard to tell just what would happen when that did, but if the headline that started all this was anything to go by...it was something Richard really didn't need.

 

The headline that started this had been based in speculation, someone's wishful thinking based on rumors from information somehow leaking out about the summoning to get Alcor to 'de-curse' the movie and his request for drinking nights.

 

The tabloid hadn't had any evidence to prove Richard had gone through with it, or even that it had really happened. Not that tabloids cared about things like 'truth' or 'evidence'.

 

Well, no evidence except for a sudden increase in alcohol purchases, but then again, Richard had made his feelings on his current role pretty clear, clear enough to justify a few drinks after work and a sudden increase in said drinking.

 

Right? Right.

 

But if Richard, who had the Sight of a rock, could see and sense Alcor following him, then sooner or later someone who could See was going to find him too, and the way his life went, it was going to be some reporter than Saw Alcor first.

 

 

Finally, the bi-weekly bitch'n'drink night returned, and Richard set up the usual preparations, but this time finished them early, seating himself on the chair facing the couch Alcor usually materialized above.

 

Alcor was true to form, appearing sharply at seven as they'd agreed with a little puff of golden glitter that disappeared before it hit the floor and dropping down onto the couch, smiling and relaxed.

 

He stopped smiling as he got a look at Richard's face, sitting up properly, all hints at relaxation gone.

 

“We need to talk,” Richard said seriously. “Why have you been following me?”

 

“I...what?” Alcor said, and privately Richard had a moment of disbelief that he was confronting a demon, but squashed it down. He needed to concentrate.

 

“You've been following me for the past two weeks,” Richard repeated, crossing his arms defensively. “You slipped up and I saw you. What's more, so did people on set. So what gives?”

 

Alcor slid down into the couch cushions, his arms crossed and wings pulled in tight and sulkily. “You were complaining about more fans coming after you lately,” he said, pouting. “And how much you were freaking out about the sequels. So I thought if I was hovering around being disapproving...see if I try and be nice again,” he added in an undertone.

 

“Oh. Well, um. Thanks, I guess,” Richard said slowly. “I think I get where you're coming from. Not sure it's going to work, but I get it.”

 

“Oh, come on!” Alcor moaned. “What do I have to do to get this thing to stop already?”

 

“Well, we're just the ground crew,” Richard pointed out. “We all got locked into contracts. The people who could pull the plug don't come around the studio unless it's to bitch at us about how long it's taking or how much money we're spending.”

 

Alcor let out a rude noise at that. “I know one of the backers,” he said eventually. “She'll never quit. Thinks it's too funny.”

 

“I...” Richard paused, thinking for a second. “Wait a minute, isn't one of the major backers Pacifica Northwest? The one from Gravity Falls?”

 

Alcor nodded miserably. “We've been pranking each other for years,” he confirmed. “This is pretty much her ultimate prank, no matter how much it's costing her. It's not like she's paying for the whole thing anymore, anyway. Not with all these other backers. But she'll keep paying for it even if they all give up.”

 

“You...could still come by the set,” Richard offered. “Most of the people that are locked in were there when you got summoned so they know you don't approve but you're not going to try anything. Might still work. Just...ease up on the creep factor, maybe?”

 

Alcor lit up like a star and Richard passed him a beer. “To further mayhem,” Richard proposed, and Alcor raised his can.

 

“Agreed.”

 

 

Alcor took Richard up on his offer, though Richard noticed that the aura of doom and impending death was much lighter than it had been, and Alcor was definitely hanging around less often than he had been.

 

Then again, they were getting into the part of the script where 'Alcor' and 'Mizar' were supposed to be romancing each other, so...probably just too awkward for the real Alcor to sit around and watch.

 

But afterward...Richard left the studio a week after talking with Alcor to find a young man with familiar brown hair lounging against the wall of the building. If he'd been trying for inconspicuous, he'd missed by a mile, as the long black trenchcoat with its turned up collar and dark sunglasses screamed “Don't notice me!”.

 

Richard paused, debating if he should say something or just run for security, when the man tilted down the sunglasses, and a gold on black eye met Richard's.

 

“What are you doing?” Richard hissed, grabbing the demon's arm and hurrying him off to the side where they wouldn't be noticed, a small part of his mind filing the action away to freak out over later.

 

Alcor, thankfully, didn't seem to mind the rough handling, though he seemed a bit put out at the reception.

 

“Keeping an eye on you,” the demon replied, as if it were obvious.

 

“I...why don't you just hang a neon sign over your head, it'd be just as subtle,” Richard groaned.

 

Alcor honest to goodness pouted, and Richard wondered just when his life had gone so far off the rails.

 

“This is how people dress for investigating,” Alcor protested, and Richard had to fight the urge to face palm.

 

“In movies, yes, not in reality,” he said. He signed, looking at the demon. “Was there a reason you were waiting outside the studio?”

 

“Oh, right,” Alcor said, shifting uncomfortably. “So, there might be a tour coming through soon based around Twin Souls. One that might have been timed so they could meet you. Full of people from the online fandom.”

 

“A tour of Twinners?” Richard echoed, paling.

 

“Yeah. So, uh...want out of here? I mean technically I'll have to make a deal for that but it can be like, some candy or something,” Alcor offered.

 

Richard dug into his pockets quickly. “Um...would a Snackers bar do?” he asked quickly. “And where? Where are we...?”

 

“No time!” Alcor gasped, as the sound of giggling began to grow louder. He grabbed the Snackers bar in one hand and Richard's in the other, and there was a sensation of _blip_ .

 

 

Richard stumbled as his feet his the ground, clutching his stomach. “What...”

 

“So, yeah. Sorry about that,” Alcor said, rubbing at his arm. “Kinda did that in a rush. The trip home'll be easier.”

 

“Yeah...okay,” Richard said. “So...where are we?”

 

“Well...I kinda promised Pacifica I'd meet her today, so...” Alcor replied, scratching at the back of his head. “Ready to have dinner with a superstar and a demon?”

 

“Considering the alternative is a possible rabid batch of Twinners, you're looking more appealing by the moment,” Richard replied. “Lead on.”

 

 

Pacifica was waiting in a small diner, much smaller than Richard would have expected, but then, that was probably the point – to find some measure of privacy.

 

It was also packed with an array of species, which meant Alcor didn't stand out when he sat at the table with sunglasses still in place.

 

Pacifica had seemed surprised to see Richard tagging along, but hid it well, her expression shifting to an understanding grin after Alcor whispered to her.

 

 

Richard was dropped off at his apartment three hours later with the phone number and email of a new ally and possible friend, and a deeper gratefulness than ever that he'd made friends with a demon.

 

 

That feeling lasted a week, until the tabloids found out, and the headlines again screamed of Alcor's approval of sequels and anticipation for the movie.

 

Richard began stocking up on the harder booze. The way things we going, he and Alcor both were going to need it.


	100. Small Packages Pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is a combo of: kevingabriel's request: kid alcor? and [Is it bad that I can see Alcor going all Unholy Retribution on people involved in child trafficking? Because I can see him tearing them to *shreds* and making them wish they'd never been born, and doing all this while in his 12 years old self. Maybe one of his niblings told him, or he discovers them accidentally with his omniscience, but the people involved being wholly unprepared to deal with the wrath of a *very* pissed off demon. (...Wow I need more demon-on-a-killing-spree!Dipper)](http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/111545508936/is-it-bad-that-i-can-see-alcor-going-all-unholy).
> 
> Since this is my 100th chapter (how did that happen?) this one's a two-parter. More next week from this one.
> 
> Warnings for talk of child trafficking. I didn't get graphic with anything, but it's still kids-in-danger. Normal for this AU, really.

It started with a rumor, passed from group to group, species to species.

 

It probably would have stopped there, if it weren't for the presence of the Dinner Crew, who accepted and welcomed members of all species.

 

Because they were the first to be able to compare rumors, see the similarities in them, and bring them all to Don Pines.

 

The swan maiden they had voted to bring it all to the Don, Fiona, finally wrapped up her report and passed her papers over to Lucy Ann, who was sitting in the huge armchair next to the couch holding Hank and Vivi, dwarfed by the huge chair.

 

“The police aren't helping at all?” Hank asked, answering himself before anyone else had to. “No, nevermind, of course they aren't. If they weren't able to help when it was just human kids, why would they be able to for anyone else.”

 

He flopped back onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “Right. Okay. I...sorry. Going to take a minute to sink in. I just. Every time I think I've seen the worst things people can do...”

 

Hank took a deep breath as Vivi patted him on the shoulder. He felt for her hand without looking and gave it a squeeze, feeling her anger in the tenseness of her hand.

 

Of course Vivi would be even more upset than he was. She worked with preschoolers, and that was the age these people were targeting.

 

“It was hard to find out about this,” Fiona said apologetically. “A lot of traffickers like to focus on families and convince them to sell their own kids, so...a lot of times that's hard to prove. But I guess there's a market for non-human kids now, and well...a lot of us have trouble having kids, so we're kind of overprotective, and the bad parents get weeded out before it can happen. Not that it doesn't, you know, but...” She paused and sighed. “The point is, a lot of kids have gone missing, and we don't know what to do, and child protective services don't know how to help us, any of us. They were already overburdened, you know? And my sisters just want to go beat people up until we find our cygnets, but that's not really going to help.”

 

“Probably not,” Hank agreed. “I'll bet it would feel good for awhile...you know, until you got arrested. Of course we'll help.”

 

He frowned at the ceiling. “This one is going to be tricky. I mean, unless one of us is willing to pretend like they're looking to buy or sell a child, we don't really have a good disguise to get in there. I think I'd better call in Uncle Dipper for some backup. We can bribe him with yesterday's lasagna for some more info.”

 

Lucy Ann cleared her throat pointedly. “In case you're forgotten, you've got someone who eternally looks like a child right here,” she said.

 

Hank winced. “Yeah, just...let's get some more information first, okay? Before I go sending somebody off into the unknown.”

 

Lucy Ann rolled her eyes but leaned back in the huge chair, smiling faintly.

 

 

Uncle Dipper was duly summoned, with the family circle stitched onto the back of the living room rug.

 

Once the customary hugs and greetings were over, Hank sat down on the couch next to Lucy Ann. “Sorry Uncle Dipper, but this isn't...it's business.”

 

“I kinda guessed,” Dipper admitted. “You don't usually call me in the middle of the day if it isn't. So what've we got this time?”

 

“You're really not going to like this one,” Hank warned. “I think Vivi's still seeing red. I'm almost seeing red.”

 

That got Dipper's attention, and he sat up from his lounging position in midair.

 

“Somebody's taking kids,” Hank said, cutting straight to the heart of the matter, as Uncle Dipper got frustrated when people danced around the issue. “Traffickers. They're targeting non-human kids, which is why the Dinner Crew is involved, but everyone's pretty sure they took human ones too.”

 

That really got Dipper's attention, and he sunk down to be closer to Hank's eye level.

 

“Do you have a plan yet, or what?”

 

“So far, all we've managed to figure out is that we don't have a good way to break into their network, if we even can find it,” Hank admitted. “I don't think any of us are willing to pretend to be willing to buy or sell, and that's before we get into the possibility of getting into trouble with the law, even if we were trying to stop them.”

 

Lucy Ann caught Dipper's eye and grinned, deliberately flashing fang.

 

Dipper grinned back as Hank looked between the two of them and groaned. “Uncle Dipper...Lucy Ann...”

 

“No, listen, hear me out Hank,” Lucy Ann said. “You think this is the first batch of scumbags I've dealt with? How many times they ended up being the easiest prey I could get my fangs on? I don't usually care that much, but eh, I care about you and that dork over there, and you both care about this. And everybody's got their line in the sand. Just about anyone else is gonna get in trouble going after these people, but we can get in there and out without getting the cops involved.”

 

“And what if you can't?” Hank countered. “What if they're prepared for you?”

 

Lucy Ann shrugged. “Then I call on the dorkbender over there to come help and endure the smugness until I can take him down a notch. Look, this is about the only time I get to actually enjoy being stuck as a five year old.”

 

Hank sighed. “I can't stop you,” he admitted, “and we all know it. Just...check in once in awhile, okay? So I don't go grey early worrying about you.”

 

Dipper shared another fang-filled grin with Lucy Ann. “Bet I can get more than you,” he said.

 

“Oh, you are _on,_ ” she replied, and Hank laughed.

 

“I almost feel bad for them,” he commented. “Almost.”

 

 

Kurt was not having a productive month. His normal channels for getting more stock, while still productive, were at a momentary standstill as he waited for the newest batches to age up to the point where his clients might be interested. In the meantime he was still in the process of courting their parents, discovering who was willing to see their offspring as chattel.

 

But right now, the demand was for non-humans, or those who were at least partially so. A kid with non-human features was going to fetch a much better price, and with the state of Kurt's finances, he was on the lookout.

 

Too many of the really high priced ones were far too well guarded by their...whatever the hell they called themselves. More folks than just their parents, that was for sure. And any attempts to buy them outright or any of the tricks that Kurt or his cronies usually used were falling flat.

 

With those thoughts swirling around his head, Kurt walked along the park's trail, projecting casual activity, confident in his facade to protect him as it always had before.

 

No one ever suspected Kurt of what he was capable of. It was the only way to survive this kind of work.

 

Kurt was getting to an isolated part of the park now, a good place to sit and think of his next move.

 

There was a small playground here, but he planned to pass it, as usual. Snatching kids off the street often led to people looking for them.

 

Besides, it was so out of the way hardly anyone ever played on it

 

Then he turned the corner and froze.

 

It was brief, just a split second, but the surprise was enough to put a brief hitch in Kurt's step.

 

There was a child on the playground, sitting in the swings, idly swaying. Alone. Without an adult or another person in sight.

 

Despite his usual judgments, Kurt sat on a bench a little ways down the path, watching the child without making it obvious.

 

It was as if the fates were smiling on him, Kurt thought as he looked the child over. A little dirty, easily fixed, but it meant that the kid wasn't being watched at the moment to get dirty like that.

 

Brown hair, looked soft and fluffy, and pale skin looked well cared for enough despite being a bit scruffy and sweaty. Ordinary enough, but there were those who liked that.

 

Then the kid turned his head a bit, and Kurt saw the tip of a pointed ear peek out from under the blue trucker's cap the kid was wearing, as if to hide them.

 

The kid wasn't totally human! No human that young would have had surgery to give them prosthetic ear tips, and if he was all alone out here, and not totally human...then maybe no one was particularly looking out for him.

 

It was perfect!

 

Usually Kurt would pass a random kid like this by, on the off chance he was wrong about them being isolated so there wouldn't be a big fuss later on, but this was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.

 

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, getting up and strolling over to the edge of the playground, kneeling down by the timber border. “Bit out of the way here, arn't you?”

 

The kid looked up at him and Kurt stifled the gasp that rose at the sight of the kid's eyes. No human child would have golden irises, and though the kid otherwise looked human, with those eyes and those ears, Kurt had hit the jackpot...if he could get the kid to come along quietly.

 

“I like it out here,” the kid mumbled. “ 's private. People leave me alone. 's not like anyone'll care anyway.”

 

_Perfect!_

 

Now, how to get the kid to come with him...

 

Ten minutes of chatting later, and Kurt had managed to convince the kid to come back with him, ready at a moment's notice to snatch the kid up if he looked ready to bolt.

 

He couldn't risk a gold mine like this getting away.

 

The knockout spell Kurt kept in his pocket worked just as promised, with the kid going limp in a second, carried out to the back of the wan like so much luggage.

 

Kurt was so pleased he never noticed the golden eye that slid open to watch him as he closed the door, or the way it flickered for a single moment to gold on black.

 

 

Dipper didn't 'wake' until after he'd been chained to the wall by wrist and neck in some kind of small closet.

 

Honestly, he was a bit impressed. He'd dipped into his omniscience to get an idea about what child trafficking usually looked like – and it was a good thing for the Shack he'd gone completely into the mindscape to do that, as his reaction hadn't been pretty – and they usually weren't this organized. This was almost a movie-style level of trafficking, and despite himself, it was a little impressive.

 

The wall had been lined with these little closets, and Dipper could sense other children in a few of them.

 

Well. That complicated things a little, but eh. Where was the fun without a few little complications, right?

 

Dipper waited, impatiently, until he was sure the man who'd brought him here was gone, before whispering, “Hello?”

 

The faint crying he'd heard, stifled while his 'kidnapper' had been in the room but renewed one he was gone, slowed and paused.

 

“We're not getting out of here,” a mildly scornful, heavily bitter female voice said, while the crier snuffled. “I tried. We're getting sold off tomorrow.”

 

“You shouldn't give up so quickly,” Dipper said. “Something could happen yet.”

 

The girl in the other closet scoffed. “At least these people will want me,” she said faintly.

 

Dipper winced, noting to himself that whoever this girl was, she wasn't likely to be the only one they'd have to find a new home for after all this.

 

“How many kids are here?” he asked.

 

“...counting you? Six,” another voice answered.

 

It took a little more prompting, but Dipper got the other kids talking for a few minutes before the conversation tapered off. He tried to make a few reassurances, but the others didn't believe him, and since Dipper wasn't ready to reveal himself just yet, it was a bit hard to blame them.

 

 

It was hard to measure the passage of time in the tiny closets. Dipper wasn't bothered by it anymore, since he had a feeling (a knowledge, a remembrance from an info dump) that said all too clearly how little time it would take for the passage of time to have no meaning save in how long he had with those he loved.

 

Though he would like to get the chains off. There was just enough iron in the steel to bother him, the faintest but still irritatingly persistent itch.

 

A few times during that long night, Dipper wondered just when doing this sort of thing had become acceptable, this plotting and knowing he was going to kill come tomorrow, not in self defense (even if he could argue it was in defense of the children) but gave up on the argument before he could start that spiral.

 

Still, Dipper still had enough of a grasp of time to know it was 'tomorrow', and he could sense people in the room above.

 

Apparently, they were coming to bid on and pick up their purchases in person. It seemed more dangerous to Dipper than doing it online, but then again, how many illegal and immoral auctions had Hank and Vivi had to break up already?

 

He'd just wait for the right moment, when he was sure everyone that was coming was there, and...well.

 

 

Dipper was starting to get impatient when the door to the room finally creaked open, and Kurt's voice rang out. “All right then kiddies, it's time for your big debut!”

 

Dipper could hear closets being opened, and didn't resist when his own was opened and he was dragged out by the chain around his wrists, Kurt's voice ordering them to be careful with him.

 

Kurt crouched down in front of Dipper' taking his chin into his hand and looking at him closely, turning his head from side to side. “This one's gonna make us a lot of money, boys,” he announced. “Try not to damage him too much.”

 

 

If the way he was being treated was 'not damaged', Dipper didn't want to think about how roughly the other kids were being treated, though he could hear it clearly.

 

It was only by reminding himself, over and over again, of how much more rewarding waiting would be that kept him from acting.

 

He did manage, during the chaos, to get a look at the actual kids that were trapped here. Three of them were definitely human, but he got a glimpse of a fox tail on one girl, and a boy that was a troll like Toby.

 

No wonder they thought Dipper was going to be worth money, with the slightly magical features, not a shapeshifter like the kitsune or fully human.

 

They were dragged into a small room, and Dipper could hear the people outside, talking quietly with each other, their voices merging into a dull rush of sound.

 

“All right, everyone, same procedure as usual,” Kurt announced, fixing his tie. “We take the merchandise out, let people get a good look, and then we start the bidding.”

 

The kids were dragged into the room, and the chains around their hands hooked through rings on an iron pipe that stood a little taller than the tallest adult and drawn tight, until they couldn't move.

 

Dipper was at the end of the line, and he reached out to nudge the little girl next to him. “Brace yourselves,” he whispered. “Things aren't going to go they way they planned.”

 

The girl beside Dipper looked highly skeptical, and he still couldn't blame her, but eh, he'd warned them.

 

She still had enough hope in her to pass the message along, just before the curtain was raised and they came face to face with the people who had come to bid on them.

 

Dipper was almost bowled over by the waves of anticipation rolling off the audience, the black pits of fear and despair from the other kids. He knew his powers were slipping, the disguise beginning to wear thin, as the adults in the audience openly looked them over, debating their merits and flaws.

 

With a little twist of power the doors locked shut, and the locks and hinges melted solid, leaving them as solid as the walls around them.

 

Up front, Kurt started his spiel, and Dipper began his show.

 

The lights began to dim. Slowly, by degrees, so no one truly noticed until they could barely see the stage, let alone each other.

 

The buyers in the audience began to cry out protests, angry and indignant. Beside him, Dipper can feel the girl's eyes burning into him, but he ignored her, concentrating instead on the adults.

 

The hall snapped to blighting light before for a split second before plunging into pitch blackness, and people began to panic. Kurt and his men began to call over the audience, imploring them to remain calm.

 

Over the sounds of their panic, the snap as the chains binding the children shattered into dust sounded like a gunshot.

 

The kids cried out in shock as all attention turned to the stage, falling to their knees with exhaustion or stumbling at the sudden lack of pressure.

 

In the pitch darkness, a pair of golden eyes snapped open, followed by a glowing cheshire grin of sharp, needlelike teeth, both at the level of a twelve year old.

 

The twelve year old who had stood at the end of the line, who they had been eying as a piece of meat not five minutes ago.

 

The lights came back on, focused on the child who stood yet at the end of the line, head tilted down, eyes bright and shining and mouth stretched wider than a human's could possible manage.

 

He began to float, slowly rising into the air. Shadows rushed around his body, replacing the dirty t-shirt and shorts with an impeccable suit, crisp and perfect. A pair of void black wings snapped open behind him, and the child sized demon smiled down at the adults who screamed and panicked, running for the doors, pounding on doors that refused to budge, refused to move the tiniest fraction of an inch.

 

The demon turned to look down at the real children, and his grin was softer when he spoke. “Told you it was going to be okay,” he said, unheard by the adults, who were still screaming with terror. He held out a small hand, encouragingly. “Come on, I'll take you somewhere safe, then come back to take care of them.”

 

The kids were reluctant, little surprise there. Then the girl's face took on a harder cast than one of her age should have to have, and she reached out for the kitsune's hand before grabbing Dipper's.

 

“I heard about him, that's _Alcor._ It's got to be better than what they were planning for us,” she snapped at the other four. “Come on!”

 

“Hey, get back here!” one of Kurt's men yelled, grabbing for one of the boys.

 

Dipper lunged forward, his teeth barely missing the man's outstretched hands. He snarled as the man stumbled back and away, and he and the kids disappeared in a blinding flash of golden light.

 

 

Dipper dropped the kids off in the middle of a Dinner Crew meeting, popping in with them right in the middle of a report with a “Hey Hank, found some of the trafficked kids, gotta go turn some kidnappers into cor͡p҉s͘es̴ , be back soon!”

 

He disappeared as soon as the last word was out of his mouth, leaving the Dinner Crew and kids staring at each other blankly.

 

 

Dipper flared back into existence in the small room, wings spread wide and teeth bared. His reappearance made the people still trapped inside go quiet, fear spreading in circles from him like a rock dropped into a pond.

 

Slowly Dipper tugged off his gloves, revealing the needle sharp claws beneath. “Let's get to the point here,” he said. “You know what you planned to do with those kids. I know what you planned to do with those kids. So let's get straight to the point, shall we?”

 

 

When the police finally arrived, they found a good two dozen people trapped in a small room with a stage and chains at one end and folding chairs trampled and bent underfoot.

 

“Aw, shit,” the leading officer onto the scene said, pointing at the wall, “is that some demon symbol?”

 

“Somebody get the supernatural unit in here!” his partner called back to one of the officers still outside. “We got a demonic one!”

 

“Where's the blood, though?” a younger officer asked, gently prodding one of the bodies with his toe. The person moaned and the officer jumped nearly a foot off the ground. “Shit, we got a live one here!”

 

“They're all alive,” the leading officer said, wonder and confusion heavily covering his voice, examining the star-shaped brand over the eye of a man collapsed against the wall. “What the hell?”

 

 

The newspapers screamed out the news the next day, complete with a picture of the mark on the wall (once it had been cleared by the supernatural unit).

 

 _Alcor takes down pedophile ring_ , the headlines read. _Leaves a mark dubbed 'The Nightmare Brand' on everyone involved._

 

Alcor had been 'kind' enough to leave a description on the wall of the room his victims had been found, written in gold, of exactly what a Nightmare Brand entailed, and just why these people had been branded.

 

There was quite the controversy and uproar over it, but privately, quite a few people agreed with Alcor.

 

 

In the Dinner Crew headquarters (aka Hank and Vivi's living room), Dipper smiled smugly down at Lucy Ann, a 25 printed on the scoreboard hung on the wall. “Your move,” he challenged, examining his claws.

 

“Showoff,” Lucy Ann muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The HC for the Nightmare Brand isn't mine, but more about it can be found here: http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/121019951316/the-nightmare-brand  
> (Also, I finished this one in a rush, my apologies.)


	101. Small Packages Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the last chapter, as promised. :) There is some more violence/graphic imagery in this chapter, just as a quick warning.

Brett had heard about what happened at the auction. How could he not? It was all anyone on all the message boards were talking about.

 

There had been crackdowns on things like that before, sure, but no one had ever managed to get into one of Kurt's auctions before, supernatural or not, and everyone was in a panic.

 

Then again, it was rare for a demon to do something like that – just, show up and wreck havoc, without a summons or excuse. And to target people for what they were doing?

 

The demon had claimed it was because they were going after kids, but...who knew. It was a demon. Yeah, it was Alcor, and apparently he was a strange one, but Brett didn't know and didn't care. He stayed away from demons and wanted them to do the same to him.

 

Which meant he was trying to lay low for a bit, like most other folk, until the panic was over.

 

But right now, Brett was getting...itchy. He'd been cut off by family recently, (well, most family – his mother claimed it was all slander and people being mean to him, and no one had any proof he'd ever done anything wrong), but it meant that he was surrounded by adults, and not many of them at that.

 

Well, his coworkers had kids, but none of them were close enough friends for visiting, or for the kids to trust him. And he didn't dare try tapping into the networks, with the panic going around – for all he knew, the demon was watching that for new toys of his own.

 

So when Brett turned the corner and found the little girl sitting alone on a bench and sobbing, it was as if he'd suddenly won the pervert lottery.

 

“Hey, what's the matter?” he said, in the most concerned voice he could fake, sitting down next to the little girl, who couldn't be more than five at the most.

 

She looked up at him, all huge eyes and dark skin and so innocent it was hard not to snatch her up and run.

 

“Nobody wants me,” she whimpered.

 

“Oh, honey, it'll be okay,” he said, mind already going a mile a minute. “Hey, are you hungry? Why don't we get some ice cream, and you can tell me all about it?”

 

She nodded tearfully. “I'm starving,” she said, and took his hand to Brett's vague surprise. He hurried to walk her to his car before she could change her mind.

 

They drove in silence, and Brett was surprised when the little girl didn't ask questions, even though they were passing by the ice cream place and out into the woods.

 

Brett pulled off into a secluded area and hit both the regular and child locks, turning to the little girl with a predatory smile.

 

“I'm starving,” the little girl repeated, looking up at Brett. Then she began to smile, a predatory smile that slowly stretched across her face, and Brett paused, hand freezing a few inches from her arm, at the sight of the fangs that filled that grin. “I think you'll do.”

 

And she lunged at his throat, fangs digging into his neck as he screamed, scrambling for the door that was still locked tight, a lock that refused to open under his scrabbling hand.

 

 

The car rocked violently, the screams muffled by metal and glass, before it finally settled and went still.

 

About five minutes later, Lucy Ann shattered the passenger side window and slid out of the car, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand smugly to get the last of the blood. She may not be as efficient as the dork was, but she made it more personal.

 

Problem was, she didn't have the unlimited stomach the dork did, either. Still...she might be able to have another tonight.

 

Maybe two, if she was feeling greedy.

 

Couldn't let Dipper get a big head after all.

 

 

Hank looked at the scoreboard on his wall, studying it intently, before looking back at the demon and ages old vampire currently staring (albeit somewhat friendly but intensely competitive) daggers at each other across the room.

 

Lucy Ann's score was growing steadily in ones and twos, while Uncle Dipper's score tended to be static for awhile before taking a large jump, though he also added in the occasional hit of three or less. Rare, but not unlikely.

 

“You know, I get why you two are doing this, but did it really have to be a competition?” Hank asked, turning back to them with a mix of amused affection and exasperation – a common combination when dealing with either Dipper or Lucy Ann.

 

“YES,” demon and vampire snapped, never breaking eye contact.

 

“It's just, people are starting to place bets on you two,” Hank continued. “And frankly, I know there's a lot of people in Portland, but sooner or later people are going to notice what's going on.”

 

“Excuse you, I haven't been limiting myself to Portland,” Dipper replied indignantly, finally breaking off his staring contest. “I only did the first set here since you had people coming to you being worried. Once we got their kids back, I was mostly leaving Portland to Lucy Ann. You know, since she can't just teleport wherever she wants to go.”

 

“Oh, thank you _so_ much,” Lucy Ann retorted, and Dipper gave a ridiculously flippant little bow.

 

“If you two are done,” Hank said with a more than a touch of amusement, well used to their antics (and not afraid to call them out on it, intensely powerful vampire and dream demon or not) but sobering quickly, “I think we might still have a problem on our hands. This whole thing goes deeper than we expected.”

 

He held up a piece of white corrugated board with red writing on it. Lucy Ann reached for it, but Dipper, with his longer arms, snatched it first.

 

Lucy Ann muttered angrily and snatched at the sign, which Dipper held out of reach just because he could.

 

“I...don't really see the problem,” he admitted after a second, finally handing the sign over to Lucy Ann. “Well, unless I you know, _look_ for it, but...yeah.”

 

As usual, it was obviously difficult for Dipper to admit he didn't know something, but he obviously felt better when Lucy Ann handed the sign back to Hank with a, “Yeah, not sure I get it either, but then again, I don't really pay attention to the whole 'jobs' thing.”

 

“Yeah, it looks okay, but...see how there's no descriptions?” Hank pointed out. “And the age range they're looking for? And looking for non-humans? I got Fiona – I don't think you've met her, Uncle Dipper, she's one of the swan ladies who came by originally about all of this – to call the number. It sounded sketchy as hell, honestly. Wanted her to come alone, and when we checked the address...well, there's no business there. And with all the disappearing kids lately...yeah. Usually I'd send someone to check it out, but...”

 

“Whattya got?” Dipper asked.

 

“Tub of ice cream and leftover spaghetti,” Hank replied immediately, long experience with his uncle letting him know as quickly as his uncle what was an appropriate amount to offer.

 

Dipper gave him the finger guns. “You're so on.”

 

 

When Dipper returned a few hours later, his body was covered with pulsing bricks of black, and he was giving off golden sparks each time he moved, teeth and claws longer and sharper than usual.

 

Even Hank, who had grown up around Dipper, hesitated for a split second before calling his name.

 

Dipper took a deep, unnecessary breath, slowly letting it out as the black drifted away from his body, slowly reaching for calm.

 

“Take it you didn't like what you found,” Hank said dryly.

 

Dipper took another deep breath, wings flexing with the inhale and exhale, visibly calming although his claws neither grew duller nor shorter. His teeth, on the other hand, did, if only so he could speak more clearly.

 

“How many people could you get together on short notice for a good old cult bashing?”

 

 

“We've hit the motherload,” Dipper said bluntly after Hank called his lieutenants in and asked him to elaborate. “The ads, they lead to more traffickers – they weren't just aiming at kids this time, but when I followed them, well, there were kids there. It was a whole training camp. I can give you facts and figures, but I'm going after them. The question is if anyone's coming with me.”

 

“I...think we're going to need more than that, Uncle Dipper,” Hank said when Dipper stopped, with no apparent intent to continue.

 

Dipper scowled. “It was making me feel sick to my stomach, Hank. _Me_. It's not exactly something I want to go over again. But,” he added before Hank could protest, “I'll...give you the summary. So anyone coming with can know what they're getting into.”

 

“I'll go order some pizza,” Vivi offered, standing. “And an extra for Uncle Dipper.”

 

“May not want to eat when I've finished...” Dipper muttered.

 

 

Of course it wasn't that easy, to just let Dipper explain what he had seen and load up to go take care of it.

 

It wasn't like when it was just Dipper and Mabel, with no backup or resources. This was explaining what Dipper had found to everyone else that needed to know, and deciding who would be best on this kind of mission, and how they would attack, how they would get in, what the end goal was, all while Dipper's instincts demanded he go and stop waiting on these slow mortals.

 

Honestly, he could have taken care of this on his own, he just wanted to make sure none of them got away and every one of the victims was freed. Which meant getting backup. Which was taking forever.

 

Though...honestly, it was probably better this way, if frustrating, and even if it did mean more people for Dipper to worry about once they were there.

 

Dipper shook his head and floated off to the side, where Lucy Ann was watching and waiting, having already declared she was going.

 

“Left out a lot, didn't ya,” she said as he came to hover next to her.

 

Dipper shrugged. “I was mad enough, if I think about it too much I'll quit thinking and just react,” he said, honest and blunt. “I didn't have much of a plan for once. Too angry. I needed to calm down and now that I'm here...well, somebody's got to get the kids out. Or, well, the victims out, it's not just kids this time.”

 

“So we might finally break even on our little scoreboard?” Lucy Ann asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

Dipper smiled, but there was little humor in it this time. “This time, there's enough we just might.”

 

 

Quite a few plans were drawn up and discarded until everyone finally agreed to Hank's plan. Uncle Dipper goes in, since there's little to nothing that can stop him. He opens the door for the Dinner Crew and closes everything down behind them. Then they rescue the victims and shut the camp down.

 

Dipper and Lucy Ann wanted to sneak in as captured kids, to find the other kids that much quicker and sneak them out before the carnage started. Or, if Dipper had his way, blip them all the way to someplace safe.

 

The older victims they'd find after they got the kids out – who knew, they might want to get in a few kicks of their own.

 

It made the plan a touch more complicated, with Lucy Ann going in as well and delaying things while they found the kids, but also cleared up the problem of finding the kids that had been taken there and getting them out before they could be used as hostages – or worse.

 

Hank made his way over to his uncle as the plan was discussed and refined, crossing his arms as he stared down his uncle. “This whole thing wouldn't be about wanting to take these people down while you're the size of a twelve year old, would it,” he stated.

 

Dipper attempted to look innocent as Lucy Ann cackled. “Maybe,” he admitted

 

Hank shrugged. “Eh, can't argue with that. I think you and Lucy Ann are going to be well suited to this. Just...don't get carried away with the whole entrapment part, okay? Mom's going to be pissed if we have to search the world to get you or Lucy Ann back.”

 

“But I could find out what their other contacts are,” Dipper protested.

 

“Let's just do one bust at a time,” Hank said, with the exhausted patience of someone who had dealt with this their whole lives. “You can hunt the rest of them down later.”

 

 

The camp they were going after was far out in the woods, a pretty long drive for most of the Dinner Crew that would take them on dirt roads and unmarked trails. Which meant that they were going to be taking a combination of Alcor Airlines and Kiyo to get there, rather than risk getting lost or alerting people in the camp of their arrival.

 

It took a little longer, but the secrecy was worth it.

 

 

The Dinner Crew waited, hidden in the woods while Dipper blipped himself and Lucy Ann into the camp proper.

 

“...how young are you going?” Lucy Ann asked mockingly when they appeared inside the camp, Dipper already shrunk down to child form.

 

“Excuse you, I can't help it if I was a little small for twelve,” Dipper snapped back, adjusting the tucker's cap that had replaced his top hat. “Come on, I don't want this place running any longer than it has to.”

 

This part of the plan was simple – let themselves be caught. If someone tried to punish them for 'escaping', then, well...things just might get started early.

 

If the twosome had been trying to get away, they might have managed it, but given they were trying to be caught, they weren't as inconspicuous as they otherwise would have been.

 

Thankfully (for them) they were spotted quickly by two men, who rushed to snatch them up roughly by the arm and drag them off.

 

Both of them ignored the rough handling – these men would be paying for it later, make no mistake, but for the moment...better to keep a low profile.

 

“What the hell, man?” the one keeping a death grip on Dipper's arm demanded as he swung open a door into one of the cabins near the center of camp. “How the hell did these two get out? Aren't you doing your damn job?”

 

The man sitting inside jumped at the slam of the door, changing to a glare a second later. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he snapped, “I've never seen these two before.” He knelt and grabbed Dipper's chin in his hand, turning his face back and forth, inspecting him. “Not bad, though. Attractive pair you found. Go put 'em with the others and we can start breaking them in later.”

 

Any humor the pair might have found in the situation was killed by that offhand remark.

 

The two 'kids' were dragged into the room and chained to the wall, though both noted that, although the room was full of people ranging from far, far too young to teens, only a handful were chained.

 

Lucy Ann kicked Dipper's leg when the wall next to them began to bleed, snapping his attention back to her and away from the girl who couldn't have been more than mid teens chained spread-eagle against the wall.

 

One of the men gave her head a mocking pat before they left, and by the look in her eye Dipper knew that man was going to die slow.

 

 

“Welcome to hell,” one of the older children said after the door was locked.

 

“It's going to be,” Lucy Ann said with a smirk as she jerked her chains out of the wall. Dipper dissolved his, doing the same to Lucy Ann's with a touch, as the other children stared, some in shock, some too exhausted to register just yet what was happening.

 

“Do we stick to the plan, or take care of that one first?” Dipper asked, with a jerk of his head towards the locked door.

 

“What _are_ you?” the chained girl asked, rousing herself and weakly raising her head.

 

Dipper and Lucy Ann grinned, both flashing fangs, and Dipper's eyes flickered to gold on black.

 

“We're from the Dinner Crew,” Lucy Ann said, as Dipper snapped his fingers, a flash of blue fire dissolving the chains holding the girl upright. He satisfied the demon part of him demanding repayment with the reminder that the man outside would be paying the price for this. “We're here to get everyone out of here, and make the people responsible pay for this. Are you all the people they've taken?”

 

“I'm not sure, but please get her out of here!” One of the other children burst out. “They were gonna punish her more later for trying to run away!”

 

“We're getting everyone out of here,” Dipper promised. It was one he knew he could keep, and still satisfy the part of him needing a deal with the carnage and chaos to come.

 

“I think...” the girl who'd been chained said slowly as she painfully pushed herself upright, “That there's another two cabins with other people in – kids and the quiet adults. The ones who gave up already. I think there's some more adults separate, I thought I heard them when I tried to run, and I heard some of the men talk about them when they...” she paused and swallowed harshly.

 

Dipper closed his eyes, both to more easily sense around them and to rein in his temper. Lucy Ann would be able to smell and sense people too, but not from this distance, from inside a room filled with other people.

 

But with the girl's directions...Dipper focused on the cabins first before spreading his attention outward.

 

She was right. Two cabins filled with frightened people, and a bit further out, four people feeling of trapped/fear/despair. Closer, another building filling with people, with one person a spot of mind numbing terror awash in a sea of anticipation.

 

“There's a building,” Dipper said, “A big one? Near here. Lots of people in it. What...?”

 

“That's the training hall,” one of the smaller children said in a whisper. “The big one.”

 

“They've got more than one, but the big hall is closest,” an older child, around mid teens, clarified, helping the girl who'd been chained to sit easier.

 

“That makes our job easier...or possibly harder,” Lucy Ann said. “Depends on if they're ready for an attack. Come on, dork, let's get these ones out so we can do the others and start the fun.”

 

“How?” someone else piped up.

 

Dipper grinned. “Hold hands, everybody. Let's get out of here.”

 

 

“There's a single guard on each cabin full of kids and the adults they think they've broken,” Lucy Ann reported to Hank, back in the forest, kids already dropped off safely with the Dinner Crew who'd stayed behind for that express purpose. “Four for the four adults that are locked up separately. Most of 'em are in something the kids called the Big Hall, with another victim in there.”

 

“Come when you hear the screaming start,” Dipper added.

 

It was a measure of how much of the Pines darkness Hank had inherited despite his sweet nature that he didn't so much as protest.

 

 

Chad, the guard of Cabin 1, paused, tilting his head to listen. Usually there was more noise out of the room behind him...crying, usually, but always something. But right now...it was far too quiet in there.

 

“Oy, what're you kids up to in there?” he shouted, banging on the wall. “Carol's not the only one that'll be feelin' the whip tonight if you're tryin' somethin'!”

 

There was no answer, and Chad got up, grumbling. “I tell you, I know some folks who'd love ta watch me make ya dance for 'em!”

 

He slammed open the door, leering, hand at his belt, blinking in shock when the empty room greeted him.

 

Empty save for the two kids brought in earlier, now unchained and standing side by side in the middle of the room.

 

Chad snarled. “Should'a known the new kids would be a problem,” he growled. “Where's the rest, eh? Better speak up, or the whippin'll be that much worse.”

 

The two exchanged glances, identical grins spreading across their faces.

 

Behind Chad the door slammed shut, locking itself. And as that registered, the two leapt.

 

Chad yelped, more startled than frightened. The two were weird, but they'd had weird kids before, they'd dealt with non-human kids a couple of times, and they were supposed to be getting more in.

 

Did they really think a pair of _kids_ could take him down?

 

He stumbled back a pace, long enough to snatch the crucifix from his pocket and brandish it at the kids.

 

He'd show them who was boss here, and it wasn't a couple of brats.

 

They fell back, like he'd expected. Chad smirked, backing the two towards the corner as he spoke. “Thought so. Nasty little things, can't stand a bit of the cross, can ya? Maybe I'll just brand you with this instead of the whip, bet the men would like that...”

 

His gloating was interrupted by chuckling. Chad snarled, thrusting the crucifix closer to them. “You think this is fucking funny? I'm gonna...”

 

Whatever Chad was going to threaten was cut off when a tiny hand grabbed his wrist, squeezing until he felt bones grind together, the little girl grinning up at him as she twisted his captive wrist. Chad gave a cry of pain, the crucifix involuntarily falling to the floor with a clatter.

 

“You're gonna die,” she declared, and oh shit where was the boy how did he disappear?

 

As if he knew Chad had just noticed his absence, clawed hands landed on Chad's shoulder and throat, one finger at a time, slow and deliberate.

 

“Qu҉i̴c͏k o͟r ̴ s̷͢͝low͞?” a demonic voice crackled by his ear as Chad fought to free his wrist, only succeeding in dragging the little girl a step before she planted her feet and Chad found himself immobile, with claws beginning to dig into the soft skin at the side of his throat, hot trickles of blood welling up around them.

 

The little girl pouted. “We're on a schedule, Alcor,” she said primly.

 

_Alcor? Why the fuck would...?_

 

“A͠ p͏i͝ty.̸ Qui҉ck͡ iţ įs,̕ th͜en,” the demon on Chad's back purred, claws tightening. “Does͘n'͠t͟ m͝ean it̸'ll͏ b̛e̶ pa̛in̨l̸esş,” he hissed in Chad's ear, and the little girl grinned. She raised his wrist to her mouth, fangs bared, as Chad watched in horror. “Afte͟r ̸w̧ha͝t you'v̸e dơne?͘ No̕t a̵ c̶h̶an̵c͢e͞.”

 

A clawed hand clamped over his mouth as the little girl bit down, muffling the first of Chad's screams.

 

 

Troy knocked again at the door to Cabin 1. “Yo, Chad, you fall asleep in there? My turn to watch the rugrats, you can go join 'em at the big hall.”

 

When there was still no answer he opened the door, poking his head inside. “Seriously? What, you go out to take a leak or something?”

 

Then he paused as the scent of blood hit his nose. “Chad? This ain't funny, man. You better not have started something, boss'll be pissed.”

 

The door to the prison room snapped open, just a crack, before slowly swinging inwards on its own. Troy stepped closer and froze when the smell of blood and worse grew stronger.

 

Then he saw Chad, sprawled on his back, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling, with the two new kids, the ones Troy had helped drag in, crouched over his body, both covered in blood and making small, animalistic noises as they tore off new pieces to eat.

 

The boy turned to look at Troy, his head slowly turning until it had gone a full one eighty, and smiled at him with blood covered fangs far too sharp for a human mouth to hold, inhuman eyes glowing in the dim light inside the cabin.

 

Troy screamed, stumbling over his feet as the boy began to stand, kept going until he was floating, his body turning to match his head before lunging at Troy.

 

Troy had gone through the training the boss was giving them on dealing with non-human stock. He'd paid close attention, had wrangled the ones that had come through so far.

 

He'd thought he was prepared.

 

As the girls' fangs fastened in his throat and the boy's claws reached for his eyes, his last coherent thought was that he really, really wasn't.

 

 

Out in the woods, Ben perked up. “There's the signal,” he said. “Somebody's screaming like a banshee.” He chuckled. “Wonder who got him.”

 

“Ask later,” Hank advised. “Go time, everybody!”

 

 

In the big hall, the woman tied spread eagle to the square frame on the center platform was silent, head down with her hair masking her face, saving the last of her strength for what was to come.

 

The table next to her was laid out with the tools they planned to use on her, and she was fighting to keep her horrified eyes from them.

 

The men were milling around, anticipation high for the training session, eying the woman openly and greedily, when the doors were thrown open with a clatter and bang.

 

No one turned to look – it wasn't that unusual for someone coming late to be less than careful with the door – until things started pouring in, non humans that they had no names for, filling the hall, shrieking battle cries.

 

The men nearest the doors grabbed for them, while the rest reached for the weapons they kept on their bodies at all times.

 

Their first shots ricocheted off the troll that stormed through the door, picking up the man who had shot at him and tossing him across the room as easily as a child throws a doll.

 

Over his head flew a tiny fairy, which promptly darted down to headbutt the nearest man, who went down like a pile of bricks. Too small to hit, he darted among the men crowding the hall like a streak of lightning. Those who tried to shoot him or stab him inevitably missed, their shots and blades going wide and striking their fellows as the fairy laughed before punching them, his fists packing the force of a full six foot man into the size of a six inch fairy.

 

The troll waded through the crowds and the chaos, ignoring them all, until he came to the woman in the center of the hall. Her bonds were torn away in a second under his huge hands as she stared at him in blank exhaustion and shock. Those same massive hands picked her up as though she were made of porcelain and he carried her out, still ignoring the men around them who tried to stop him, tried to rip the woman from his arms as he strode out the door, which opened only long enough for him to leave.

 

Behind the troll, the doors slammed shut, blue fire racing along the seams around them, sealing them shut.

 

Several of the men tried to escape, to follow after her, but found windows unbreakable and doors locked.

 

Gnomes, little things they'd used for target practice the few times the disgusting little creatures had ventured near the camp, were running amok underfoot, causing havoc none of them had believed the nasty things had been capable of.

 

Men and women that towered over them, men and women with piercings and wildly colored hair, with sealskins slung over their shoulders, charged into the fray screaming insults both accurate and absurd, ignoring every wound they received as they brawled like the famed berserkers of old.

 

The worst were the children. A little girl, who couldn't have been more than five, yet was soaked in blood, fangs bared as she gleefully took down men three times her size.

 

And a little boy, who crawled the walls and dropped down from the ceiling, who was covered in blood and worse, who had a mouthful of fangs and little wings and eyes that glowed golden on black.

 

With each kill, they gleefully called out a number to the other, dodging the hands that tried to grab at them, the holy symbols thrust their way, the guns or knives or whips that were shot or thrown at them, leaving death and blood and pain in their wake.

 

 

At the head of the room, the man in charge of this wing of the operation, this cult preaching subjugation and the training of others to know 'their proper place' (and incidentally make quite a bit of cash while doing so) stared in horror as his people were decimated before he scrambled out of his chair and through the door hidden behind the curtain and swags that decorated the wall, not seeing it seal shut behind him.

 

He stumbled out of the hall into more chaos.

 

The few guards that had been left to keep things under control lay dead, mostly in pieces, mangled and bloody. A small being of flame and a dragon were systematically lighting the buildings on fire, the small one darting through and lighting them from inside while the dragon shot precise bursts from above.

 

The screams were still going strong from the main hall, the carnage continuing unabashed and Maverick booked it, racing through the camp, dodging the remains of his men and the invaders who hadn't gone inside, busy destroying everything he'd created.

 

Something wet dripped from a tree, catching his shoulder, and Maverick shrieked but refused to look up, running faster for the weapons he knew they'd left in the storeroom by the cells.

 

Get a weapon, find one of the cars they had stashed in the woods, get out of here and start over far away. Maybe across the country, where no one knew him, far enough away even the non-humans would give up before they found him.

 

There weren't any weapons there.

 

The walls were bare, only the hooks and boxes remaining to say where the weapons and training tools had one been.

 

There was a man there, a tall, tall redhead, leaning lightly on a cane, with the demonic child from the big hall at his side.

 

Then it clicked. Tall redhead, cane, large numbers of non-humans obeying him, a demon dancing attendance on him... _Don Pines._

 

Maverick eyed them warily, edging back toward the door. Don Pines or not, he could still probably take him...the adults they had to train didn't always cooperate, and this man was crippled, even if he had a weapon hidden on him...but...the demon. The demon that was supposed to be protective of the Don. He never signed up for a demon.

 

For a split second, greed took over, wondering at what price a tamed demon would go for, one that could change its shape to be whatever its owner desired. The greed was tempered by the sound of another scream, snapping his focus to the blood coating the childlike form.

 

But still...any demon could be bound. It might take time, and money, but...

 

“That's Alcor, isn't it?” Maverick breathed, calculating gleam to his eye as he looked down at the demon, tinged with fear. “So the rumors are true. You do have him on some kind of leash.”

 

Don Pines looked at him oddly, leaning heavier on his cane.

 

“What'll it take for you to give that leash over to me?”

 

Now both Don and demon were looking at him as if he'd lost his mind. “You do realize we've killed all your men, freed all your captives, and are destroying your base, right?” the Don asked quietly. “And now you're trying to get me to just...sell you a demon?”

 

Maverick shrugged indifferently. “A base can be rebuilt. The men are replaceable. There's always more looking to join a group like ours. They're easy to recruit. It'll take time to retrain the stock, but I'll manage. Good trainers are hard to come by, and it takes ages sometimes to train new stock. Nothing that can't be replaced, though.”

 

Don Pines' mouth opened and closed a few times before he shook his head. “I had an idea how this could go, but you still managed to disappoint me,” he said. “You want him? Fine. You can have him. Alcor, he's all yours.”

 

With that, the Don stepped back, out the door leading into the woods. The door locked shut behind him, with a flare of blue fire around the seam to seal it shut.

 

Maverick stared down at the demon. That was...entirely too easy. There had to be more to transferring ownership of a demon than that. Still...

 

“Right then. Get over here so I can see what I got,” he commanded.

 

Eyes hidden by his bangs, the demon stepped closer, slowly, unwillingly, as if pulled forward, until he was within arm's reach of Maverick.

 

Maverick grinned in victorious glee. He may have lost everything he'd built here, but with a demon like this at his side, he could be more powerful than even Don Pines had been, the fool, to give up power like this, to focus on pandering to goody little causes when he'd had this power by his side.

 

Maverick reached for the demon, hand tracing the air just over his head and shoulder, feeling the power radiating from the tiny form. “Heh, might have to give you a trial run myself,” he muttered. “See how many forms you can do.”

 

The demon finally raised his head, and the grin on his face sent ice through Maverick's veins. That was not the smile of someone being controlled.

 

“I ̶ha̕v͞e҉ ̨a̡ ̡b̶et͘t͢er҉ idea̕,” Alcor said, floating up until he was eye level with Maverick, those inhuman eyes burning with rage. “M͟aybe̸ y̢ou sh̸ǫu̧l͏d t̷a͘ke ͢s̴ome͝ ͟t͢i͜me̷ t҉o ͘th̵in̨k ov̕e̸r̸ w҉ḩat ͢y̛o͏u've do̢ne̡.”

 

A clawed finger pressed to the spot between Maverick's eyes and the world went black.

 

 

Maverick shook his head, pressing a hand to the ache behind his temples. “What...he's gonna pay for that,” he mumbled, slowly opening his eyes.

 

Wait...why was everything so big? This wasn't the weapons room...where...?

 

“Looks like the new merchandise just woke up!” a booming voice said gleefully, and Maverick found himself looking up, up, up at someone he didn't know.

 

The man, with eyes hard and greedy, looked down at him with a grin, and Maverick finally recognized that face, recognized one of his top trainers, but his voice wouldn't work, and the hand he tried to shield himself with wasn't his, what was happening?

 

“Come'ere, brat,” the voice said, a hand that engulfed his entire arm grabbing him, and Maverick screamed.

 

 

Dipper looked down at the man lying on the ground below him coldly. This was a variation of the Nightmare Brand he'd only tried once before – this trapping of someone inside the memories of the people they'd hurt – but it seemed to be working just fine, if the bits he was getting from the unconscious man were any indication.

 

Maybe he'd wake up. Maybe he wouldn't. But the nightmares wouldn't stop, as long as he lived, and if he did wake up, that would be quite a while from now.

 

The man had earned it.

 

But dammit, dealing with him meant he left the rest of them to Lucy Ann. Satisfying as cutting the head off this branch was, she had to have racked up more hits than him by now.

 

Okay, so the main thing was that the victims were safe and these people could never hurt anyone ever again, but it was still an annoyance.

 

 

Word spread after that.

 

Don Pines and the Dinner Crew stopped a trafficking camp. They burned it to the ground. The traffickers were all dead...or would be better off if they had died.

 

Alcor ripped them apart. Alcor did most of the damage. Alcor set the Nightmare Brand on the survivors.

 

Alcor left a message on the camp, written large for all to see.

 

If you trade in humans, in kids, Alcor is going to come after you. And he's going to bring allies.

 

You'll never know if that kid you're eying up is just a kid, or a demon or vampire or something else, something inhuman in the shape of a child, hungry for your blood or your soul.

 

They say Alcor is in a battle with his allies, a competition for who will kill the most traffickers, the most abusers, who will make them suffer the most.

 

 

And it wasn't the last time a child sized Alcor was responsible for such a thing, nor the last time he was seen with an equally tiny vampire child, both of them creating havoc among predators.

 

 

Most people never heard the rumors, but they'd never known about the trafficking in the first place.

 

The government knew, about the trafficking. About the suffering. But always it was something they couldn't prove, something they couldn't stop.

 

And they couldn't prove the rumors true. Or false.

 

But one fact remained.

 

Suddenly, there was a large drop in human trafficking and the number of traffickers to be found. They were hiding, so far underground not even a demon could find them, unwilling to draw the least attention to themselves lest they draw down that wrath upon themselves.

 

It may have been because of a demon, but no government was going to complain about that.


	102. Peek-A-Boo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idea/Prompt: Dipper using his wings to play peek-a-boo with a baby.
> 
> Thomas, Elisha, and Agatha are flying-guinea-pig/dementor_ssc and ii-this-cat-ii's Ocs, respectively.

 

It was mostly desperation, really.

 

But Agatha was only six months old, and the baby sitter had canceled on them at the last minute, and if Thomas didn't go to this meeting today they were going to be short handed, something one really didn't want when dealing with demons, and Elisha had to go to this meeting with the bank or risk not getting the loan, so...

 

“Seriously, I can handle this,” Tyrone repeated for the third time as Thomas and Elisha continued to fuss. “”I've watched Mizar's kids hundreds of times, over more than one lifetime. I've raised kids, more than once. We'll be fine.”

 

Elisha pointed her finger at Tyrone, so close his eyes crossed trying to focus on it. “That being said, if I come back and anything's happened to my baby, I'll find a way to exorcise you. I will do it.”

 

“Duly noted,” Tyrone agreed.

 

Elisha glared at him for a few more seconds before kissing her baby and walking backwards toward the door. She paused in the doorway, pointing at her eyes and back at Tyrone, before finally leaving.

 

Thomas closed the door after them, and Elisha kept tossing glances back over her shoulder.

 

“Okay, I know you trust Tyrone, but how are you so calm? We just left our baby with a demon for a babysitter,” Elisha said once they were in the safety of the Car.

 

“One, I was careful about wording the deal. Two, no matter what else he's done, Alcor's been recorded as never voluntarily harming a child or allowing one to come to harm. And three,” Thomas added, digging out his phone and waving it lightly at the driving Elisha, “nanny cam app. I can check in from wherever I want and save the video for later.”

 

The grin Elisha shared with her husband was both relieved and evil.

 

 

Once Dipper was sure he was alone with the baby, he relaxed and grinned down at the baby in his arms. Agatha gurgled happily, reaching up towards her uncle.

 

“I gots me a baby,” Dipper sing-songed. “Yes I do!”

 

He buried his face in Agatha's belly, taking a deep sniff before blowing as raspberry, making the baby giggle. “Ah yeah, love that new human smell.”

 

Dipper settled down in the general vicinity of the couch – he rarely bothered to actually sit on it when there weren't humans around.

 

He blew another raspberry on Agatha's tummy, loving the innocent giggles. She should have been terrified of him, but was so small she still trusted everyone, happy colors shining around her as she kicked and giggled.

 

Privately, Dipper swore he was always going to protect her. He'd learned the hard way he couldn't protect those he loved from all harm, but he could still try.

 

In the meantime...Dipper hid his face behind his wings, peeking out from behind one. “Peek-a-boo!” Agatha squealed with glee, so Dipper did it again, with a sing-song “Peek-a-boo!”

 

 

Dipper had no idea how long they had been playing peek-a-boo before Agatha began to fuss. A quick glance showed her colors shading to hunger, so Dipper floated into the kitchen, digging out the first of the bottles Elisha had left for Agatha.

 

 

Agatha was happily chowing down on her bottle when Dipper felt the familiar tug of a summon. He snarled silently, batting the feeling away. “Not today,” he muttered, turning his attention back to the baby in his arms.

 

The tug came again, stronger this time. Dipper sent off the answering machine, scowling that the machine hadn't already deployed. He was  _busy._

 

He nodded with satisfaction and focused again on Agatha.

 

Then the pull came again, so strong and hard and fast Dipper didn't even have a chance to brace against it before he was dragged to the summon.

 

 

Dipper hit the circle curled around his precious cargo, wrapped in his wings, and absolutely furious.

 

“ W̛h͘at͏ ͢do yo̕u wan̸t̵?͞ ” he snarled. “Mak̷e ̶i̧t͘ qu͡ick.”

 

The room was deathly silent, save for the crackling of the candles, the soft buzz of electicity, small sounds that didn't care about the enraged demon hovering in the circle.

 

“Is...is that...is that Mizar?” one of the people clustered around his circle finally asked in a shaking voice.

 

Dipper glanced down at the baby in his arms, who had only been momentarily distracted by the change of scenery, far more interested in the bottle he held for her.

 

“...yes,” he said after a moment's deliberation. Could be dangerous, to pretend Agatha was a Mizar, but could be more dangerous yet to let people see him with a random baby.

 

The whisper traveled around the room, soft and reverent, as Dipper glanced around. He didn't recognize this cult or their decorations, but that didn't mean anything. The only ones he consistently recognized were the Cult of Dippingsauce and Circle of the Dreamer's Star, and Dippingsauce was...inactive, at the moment, though stirring.

 

“Why have you summoned me?” Dipper asked, trying to get things back on track so he could get out of there. He was wasting valuable baby time on this!

 

There was an intense, whispered conversation going on, and Dipper tapped a foot on thin air, losing patience. “Okay, you're running out of time, get to the...point...”

 

Dipper stopped short. The cultists were bowing, deeply and reverently. Okay, this was new. Most cults wanted something from him, not to worship him. (Even after all this time, it was still odd sometimes to remember there were people who actually in all seriousness worshiped him.)

 

Maybe he wouldn't have to curse people while holding a baby today after all.

 

There were gifts being piled in front of the circle now, people coming forward just far enough to lay down their offering before scurrying back to the scant protection of the group.

 

“Oh mighty Alcor, please accept these gifts, as we seek your favor. Remember us kindly, that should we have to call upon you again, you will know us as true worshipers.”

 

The gifts, Dipper noticed with amusement, now contained several things for the baby – not directly, as obviously none of them had been prepared for him to show up carrying a baby, but things handy for a mortal but useless to a demon. “Please accept these for Mizar,” the leader added, gesturing to the smaller pile, “and her mortal parents, in the hopes that someday she, too, may look upon us with favor.”

 

“And in return?” Dipper asked, absently patting Agatha on the back as she finished her bottle.

 

“We merely wish to worship you and pay you tribute, in hopes that you will look favorably on us should we be in need,” the leader said.

 

Dipper could feel his time on the summons coming to a close, thankfully. “Then I accept your gifts and will remember,” he said.

 

With that, both demon and baby were gone – and he took the tributes with them, to the cult's relief.

 

 

Back in Thomas and Elisha's living room, Dipper let out a breath he didn't need and looked down at Agatha, leaving the tributes meant for 'Mizar' stowed in the corner to take care of later. “Well, that could have gone a lot worse,” he commented. A quick glance at the clock showed it was Agatha's bathtime – demons may not have cared about the passage of time, but babies needed routine and schedules.

 

That didn't stop Dipper from playing a few rounds of 'got your feets' first, though.

 

 

It didn't take long before Agatha was clean and dressed in a new onesie, drowsing as her unofficial uncle crooned a lullaby to her.

 

Faintly, he heard and felt Thomas and Elisha opening the door and floated out to meet them.

 

“She's just about asleep,” he whispered as the exhausted Elisha and Thomas came into view. “You just made it.”

 

Elisha held out her arms for the baby, and Dipper took one last, long sniff before passing her over. “Love that new human smell,” he commented.

 

“Riiiight,” Elisha said, said, taking Agatha. “I'm just gonna go get her settled. Thanks for watching her.”

 

“Not a problem,” Dipper replied, watching Elisha head into Agatha's room.

 

“Tyrone...what's all that?” Thomas asked, pointing at the pile in the corner.

 

Dipper scratched at the back of his head. “Oh, that...funny story really...”


	103. Demon...family?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liliana Dragonshard on A Good (Or Possibly Not) Influence
> 
>  
> 
> Can we do a follow up of this where Dipper accidentally brings the triplets along when he's summoned and they con the whole lot of them to make them think that they're his demon children(or relatives) and that he's training them in the usage of their powers?
> 
> And that he's actually the least powerful within the whole of his demon family, so powerful that they can never be summoned but the weakest or youngest/least trained?
> 
> Let's just say, its the triplets who say all of this, and Dipper just plays along whilst trying to keep a straight face, and in the end Grunkle Stan and the rest laugh and laugh about it while the cultists scramble to write it down afterwards, and a good deal more cults/people/whatever believing that there really /IS/ a huge family of super-powerful demons, more powerful than even Alcor himself. 
> 
> I didn't really stick to the prompt but I got the idea.

  

Dipper did his damnedest to keep his niblings away from the summonings. To keep them away from the part of his life that was blood and fear and pain and death.

 

They knew, in that remote, detached way, that their Uncle had to deal with some pretty bad things. What it meant to be a demon.

 

But they mostly knew it the way you know a story. Oh, sure, sometimes Uncle Dipper would get pretty demonic – making the walls bleed, or ooze slime, or get that look to his face that said that whatever he was thinking, it wasn't human, or went through a brief phase of forgetting (or “forgetting”) what a human form looked like, but he snapped out of it eventually.

 

 

It really sunk in, not after Willow got dragged along to a summons, but after Acacia and Hank tried to tag along and saw how worried and upset and honestly scared their Uncle was about the idea of them seeing it, of them being dragged into it all.

 

Oh, they still played with the idea – they did live with a demon, after all – but they were a little more careful from then on.

 

Teasing people with their uncle was all part of being a Pines. And hey, they almost always had it coming somehow, with their talk of enslaving demons or how non-humans were evil or making their mommy upset.

 

Surprising how the last category only got larger the older the triplets got, and grew to include any member of the family. And each of them got better at it, following the examples set by their grunkles, their uncle, even their mother.

 

 

But despite growing older, dealing with more complications that arose from having a demon for an uncle, a mother that regularly went cult-bashing and campaigned for supernatural rights, an aunt who was a famous activist, another aunt who was a famous hunter, sometimes it was still hard to remember all that Uncle Dipper dealt with on his summons, and that wonder remained of what it would be like to go along with him.

 

 

The four were rough housing in the backyard – Uncle Dipper was very aware of the sharpness of his fangs and claws and was still extra gentle when rough housing with the triplets, though he was rougher now than he had been when they were younger, even as he took each game with enthusiasm, as the triplets were getting older and wouldn't want to play much longer – when Uncle Dipper suddenly went still and silent.

 

“Kids, you need to get off me _now_ ,” he managed to say, too late as the world around them blurred and disappeared.

 

Under his breath, the triplets heard Uncle Dipper say some of the words they weren't supposed to know yet (although they totally did). They were too busy looking around to pay attention to their Uncle, taking in the circle on the floor around them, similar to the one they used to formally call their Uncle, the candles at the major points, the smell of fresh blood strong in the air, and they clustered closer to their uncle when they caught sight of the dead goat outside the circle still dripping blood.

 

But the circle around them wasn't right, somehow, and it was surrounded by more circles that made Acacia and Hank feel ill and made Willow press closer to her siblings, eyes gone wide and fae.

 

They looked up at their uncle for help, but he was silent, snarling, wings mantling around them protectively, fighting against something the triplets couldn't see.

 

“Chains,” Willow whispered, covered by the chanting of the robed people around them, who had faltered when four people appeared in their circle rather than the one they expected, but had continued after that pause. “There're chains on Uncle Dipper and they're getting stronger the more people chant I know you guys can't see them but there are.”

 

The triplets looked at each other, Willow's eyes wide with what she saw, Acacia's burning with growing fury and Hank's with concern, and they shared a quick nod.

 

The Patented Pines 'Operation: Fuck These Guys' was now underway.

 

It was a title they used...rather more often than they should. But nobody hurt their uncle, demon or not. They just needed to buy him some time...

 

But how...

 

Acacia, with her troublemaking personality, her time spent overhearing Grunkle Stan pull his cons, hearing him teach Dipper the art of the deal, her previous similar cons, reacted first, trusting her siblings to be able to follow along.

 

“Hey!” Acacia snapped, crossing her arms and stamping her foot sharply. “What's the deal here, dragging us away from training? We'd barely gotten started!”

 

“Seriously,” Hank echoed, mimicking his sister's posture. “How are we supposed to get anything done if you keep dragging all of us away from lessons like this?”

 

Quickly, Willow grabbed her siblings' hands, lighting up her flames and making all three of them flare up, hoping it was enough to distract everyone around them from getting a good look at their faces. Between the flickering blue lights, the candlelight, the light from the circle, and all the shadows they were casting, it would hopefully be enough to conceal their identities.

 

Thank goodness for growth spurts, Willow thought. If this had happened a year ago they still would have been mostly hair and sweater, hardly the image for a terrifying demon. Today...well, they were almost as tall as their demon uncle, and even if they were in slightly dorky clothes (older sweaters and torn jeans, suitable for rough housing outdoors with their uncle) the contrast with their spotless uncle's formal suit was probably for the best, if only for more confusion to the cultists.

 

The smell of the blood from the sacrifice and the confusing riot of colors was still dizzying, though, so Willow kept an eye on her uncle instead as her siblings continued to berate the utterly confused cultists, all three of them shifting until they stood between their uncle and the cultists, shielding him from view as he tore through the spell-chains draped over him and providing a distraction so the cult didn't think to start reinforcing their bindings before Uncle Dipper had a chance to free himself.

 

With the cultist's attention distracted by the kids and their claims, the spells trying to chain Uncle Dipper down were visibly weakening, and the fact that the kids had come along with Alcor yet were visibly unaffected by the circle and spells was making their confusion worse.

 

“Who...” one of the cultists began to say, cut off by an elbow to the side, a hiss of 'don't ask, you'll piss them off!'

 

“I'm Gliese the Flaming One,” Willow said, ignoring the faint gasps that ran around the room. “These are my siblings, Lubdhaka the Blood Render and Mismar the Needle Fanged. And Mismar asked you a question.”

 

“Why should we answer?” the man in front asked, looking down his nose at the triplets. “You may be being chatty right now, but...” he gestured and several cultists moved toward the circle, faces set and resolute, “it seems we'll have bound four demons for the price of one.”

 

“Ugh. We're, like, so obviously not bound,” Acacia said huffily. There was a snap from behind the triplets, audible even in the physical realm, as Uncle Dipper snapped the last of his chains.

 

His wings came around the triplets protectively, and he snarled, “None of us are. And you're lucky the children are here, or I would kill you where you stand.”

 

“Wha...children...” the cult leader stammered, looking down at the triplets sheltering in Dipper's wings.

 

The wings came a little tighter around them. “ _Mine_ ,” Alcor hissed. “D͝o͘ _n̴o̵t̛_ try͠ ̵t͜o̶ sum̷m͜on̶ th͠em. ̛Do̴ ͝ _n͟o͜t̶_ try҉ ̨to makę d͠e͞als ͟with ̴th͘e̕m .”

 

Acacia grinned, and it was a nasty grin. “He gets a bit protective,” she said, patting her uncle on the head. He continued snarling but didn't move away from the gesture, actually crouching a little so Acacia could reach him easier, playing along. “You should probably just kill them,” she added to her uncle.

 

The look he tossed her was both disgruntled and unamused. “Y̕ou͞r mother ̸wo̴ưl̢d not ͟be ̧happy ͟w̨ith m͟e if I̛ e͢xpo͝s̨ed y̴o̵u ̸t͝o ͏t̡h̢at ̶l̴evęl of vi͝o͠l͝e͠nce̷,” he said.

 

His ear twitched and the kids had to stifle giggles as they heard the whispers of “Mizar!” “He means Mizar!” that were traveling around the room, so correct in one assumption and so wrong in another.

 

“We never get to have any fun,” Acacia griped.

 

“No,̕ y̵o̵u͡ ͘don'͞t͞,” Alcor agreed. “W͞e͡'rȩ l̷eavi̵ng. N̡ow. ͠N͏e͢ver try t͝h̨i͟s̷ ̸a̴gai͏n,” he hissed at the cultists, who backed away from the enraged demon. “N͞ext͟ ti͜m̛e̶ th̶e҉r͏e̵ w͏o͞n'͘t ̡b̡e ch̡i͟l͟dr͠e͢ņ ҉h̷e̸r̢e to͘ st̵op m͏e͝.”

 

He blipped them out of there before anything else could happen.

 

The kids started laughing as soon as they landed in the living room, a mix of adrenaline rush and 'I can hardly believe we pulled that off' and a touch of fear all tangled up in one release.

 

Dipper was tempted to go do something, anything, to the cultists that had thought to bind a demon, but...it seemed a waste of time. Those bindings hadn't been nearly strong enough to catch him for more than a few minutes at the most, even without his niblings there to distract them from their spellcasting, and sooner or later they were going to call up something else. Whatever they tried next was just as unlikely to be bound as he'd been, and that demon would get the kill.

 

For now...Dipper flopped down atop his niblings, laughing at their indignant cries, reassuring himself that they were safe, and laughed at the ridiculous half-truths they'd come up with on the spur of the moment.

 

Oh, but he was proud of these kids.


	104. Wish on a Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HEY What if a make-a-wish child wished to meet Alcor? What would be his reaction? How would the determined representive track down/summon Alcor? What would the parents think? Just curious
> 
> A Request from AwesomeSaucey on FF.net

 

Luisa Shavell prided herself on her reputation within the 'Realize A Dream' foundation.

 

Whatever a child dreamed of, Luisa had managed to somehow eventually produce, though whether it was luck, skill, or some strange quirk of fate none could really say.

 

After the Transcendence, suddenly there were dreams no one had thought possible being requested – and, thanks to Luisa, filled.

 

If nothing else, Luisa was now highly skilled at bribing unicorns to act like, well, like how people thought a unicorn should act for a few hours. They were the most often requested Dreams, but privately, Luisa was pretty sure those would die down once everyone found out what unicorns were really like.

 

She just hoped that maybe unicorns outside the United States lived up to their reputations – ki-rin were supposed to be regal and majestic, right? Maybe European unicorns were nicer, and it was just a regional thing...not that Luisa would be finding out anytime soon.

 

But this latest Dream...might just be above her pay grade and skill level.

 

“Run this by me again,” she said, still staring at the paperwork on her desk. “I can't have heard you right the first time.”

 

“Look, I didn't believe it either,” her boss said, leaning against the doorframe. “But...they filled out the paperwork right. If it were any other demon it'd be a hard 'no', but...”

 

“But nothing! He's still a demon!” Luisa protested. “Why does this kid even want to meet him anyway?”

 

“It's in the paperwork. And we're got another one coming who wants to meet Mizar, and I'm pretty sure they're hoping the demon comes too. Their paperwork hasn't been processed yet.” Joy, Luisa's boss and the founder of 'Realize a Dream', sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Look, I know this one's a bit out of left field, and like I said, if it were any demon but Alcor we would have rejected it right away, Dream or not. But Alcor's supposed to like kids. Like, actually, be-nice-to-them, protect them, go-easy-on-them liking. Look, I'm not saying to just summon him up and make a deal, just...check it out. Do some research. Folks around Gravity Falls are supposed to be 'his', and know all about what he's really like. Just...check, okay? Read it over and see what you can do.”

 

Luisa buried her head in her arms and groaned after the door to her office closed. A demon? Seriously? Why even...

 

After a second she sat up and took a deep breath. Right. Well. Read through the paperwork first, find out why the kid wanted to meet Alcor, and make a plan from there.

 

Just...treat it like any of the other supernatural requests that had passed over her desk since the Transcendence hit.

 

Yeah. Right.

 

...this was probably Realize A Dream's worst idea ever.

 

 

A week later, and Luisa had just about every bit of information available on Alcor the Dreambender she could find online or printed (and just hoped she wasn't on some kind of government watch list for it).

 

And, well...on the one hand, Alcor was recorded to never willingly harm a child. All the reports she'd found said he had a rather protective (and violent) reaction when people tried to sacrifice or offer children to him.

 

On the other...Alcor was a demon, and therefore unpredictable. There were just as many reports of cults slaughtered as there were of children rescued, possibly more.

 

Which...made sense. Why brag about rescuing children when you could just get them home or to help? Who would go about talking about how a demon rescued their child, when that was more likely to get them into trouble, rather than hiding it as best you could?

 

Luisa was grateful she was being granted extra time to research Alcor – then again, he was so dangerous, she would have refused to fill this Dream if she couldn't, despite the fact that it would disappoint the child involved.

 

It wasn't often, but once in awhile, a Dream was just too dangerous to try and realize.

 

But this one...Luisa had a feeling it was time to stop looking online and find an expert.

 

But which one...there were plenty of so-called 'demon experts', but with the Transcendence still so recent, and so many conflicting sources about this particular demon, Luisa simply didn't trust them when it came to the Dreambender.

 

Unless...Gravity Falls was where the Transcendence happened. It was where the Dreambender 'lived'.

 

It was full of people who dealt with him on a near regular basis.

 

There had to be someone reputable around there Luisa could contact for more information...and who knew how to be discreet.

 

This was one Dream Luisa didn't want people getting word of. People had already been protesting their organization just for getting kids a chance to meet _unicorns_ , a demon was going to get them in all kinds of troubles Luisa wasn't sure they could handle.

 

Damn pro-nats, ruining absolutely everything good about the Transcendence.

 

Luisa shook her head, running a hand over her hair and drawing a deep breath. No time to get bogged down in dark thoughts, time to do some more research.

 

Hopefully this time of things that wouldn't be nightmare inducing.

 

 

It was a lucky stroke that Luisa found out, utterly by accident, that _Behind the Myths_ was planning a series devoted to Gravity Falls.

 

That the show's lead and a true paranormal investigator, with PhDs in cryptozoology, legends, and myths, Dr. James Gallucio, was currently living in Gravity Falls and, by all accounts, was likely to move there permanently.

 

True, Wendy Corduroy was from Gravity Falls, and Luisa had planned to contact her, but...Dr. Gallucio would be slightly more neutral, she thought. What with moving there as an adult and not interacting with the demon until he was full grown.

 

Finding a number to contact him with was a bit difficult – not surprising, if she had a famous show that people protested on principle, Luisa would have hidden her contact information as well – but eventually, though a combination of social media sites and a few connections, Luisa managed to find him.

 

 

“I'm...not sure I understand,” Dr. Gallucio repeated, and Luisa agreed with his confusion, having gone through her share earlier, though she didn't let any of it show in her voice. “You're saying a child wants to meet Alcor? And you're...going along with it?”

 

“Yes,” she repeated, reminding herself to be patient. It was a strange request, of course it was going to be questioned.

 

“I'm sorry, it's just...” Dr. Gallucio sighed, and Luisa winced. So far, this call wasn't going the way she'd hoped. “This sounds like a setup. And if it is then I just ruined everything by admitting that, crap, I...”

 

“You can look us up online,” Luisa said quickly, before Dr. Gallucio could hang up on her. “I assure you, we're a real organization. And it's...well, to be honest, this is the oddest request we've ever had.”

 

There was a stretch of silence at the other end, and for a minute Luisa was sure she'd lost him.

 

“Look, I'm going to be honest with you,” Dr. Gallucio finally said. “Alcor likes kids. Not, not like, as sacrifices, that sounds wrong, but like, as kids? He...I've been studying him while I'm here, and he cares about kids. But he doesn't like people to know about that. Because...beacuse you wouldn't be the first to try and draw him in with kids to do something nasty, to him or the kids or something else. So...yeah, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to do some digging first, all right? Um...I'll need...can I get a number? To, you know, call you back?”

 

With a sudden bloom of hope stubbornly taking root, Luisa recited off her office number and, after a brief moment, her cell as well, the one she used for work and kept on her nearly all the time.

 

It was a start, and the closest thing she had to a lead.

 

But it also meant now she had to sit and wait, and see if she could get that call back.

 

 

It took a week. A week in which Luisa tried to distract herself with other cases but had that worry in the back of her mind, constantly, that wonder if she was going to manage this one, or if this child was never going to get their Dream realized.

 

Then, in the middle of filling out paperwork (endless paperwork, that haunted her dreams) Luisa's phone went off, singing out the ringtone she'd assigned to Dr. Gallucio in the hopes he would call back.

 

She snatched up the phone, and her breathless greeting caught Dr. Gallucio by surprise, if his reaction was anything to go by.

 

“So, uh. I took a look into Realize a Dream,” he said once the formalities were over. “And I talked to Officer Dubai about you. He's with the Supernatural Squad, you might have heard of them? Anyway, so yeah. And I talked with the Pines family too. They're...you know, _the_ Pines, from the Transcendence. So I can give you some information about Alcor that you won't find online, and I can connect you to Mizar. She'll handle it from there. Ready?”

 

“Wait, I...okay, I'm ready,” Luisa said, scrambling for pen and paper. She wrote quickly, in her own personal shorthand, as Dr. Gallucio gave her a rundown on the Dreambender, confirming some things, debunking others, and giving her a number to reach Mizar.

 

“Oh, and don't be surprised if Alcor decides to check up on you,” Dr. Gallucio, who insisted Luisa call him James, added, almost as an afterthought. “He can be a little protective...and paranoid. But you're trying to help kids, so you'll be fine. Probably.”

 

“Wait, what do you mean, check up...” Luisa started to ask, cut off as James bid her a quick goodbye.

 

“Gonna be late, gotta run, you'll be fine,” he said quickly. “Mizar's great, you'll see. Just stock up on candy and talk to Mizar first.”

 

Luisa stared at the silent phone in her hand and wondered, not for the first time, what the hell she'd gotten herself into.

 

 

Luisa called the number she'd been given the next day, after worrying over it all night.

 

No matter what she was – human, demon, something in between, no one quite knew for sure – Mizar was the key to getting this to happen.

 

The voice on the other end of the line was distinctly masculine when someone finally picked up, though, old and gravely.

 

“Pines Memorial Library, what'cha need?”

 

“I...” Luisa paused to clear her throat before continuing, needing that moment. “I'm Luisa from Realize A Dream. Dr. Gallucio gave me this number to speak with Mizar...?”

 

“He did, huh?” the man asked, and Luisa could hear the skepticism in his voice. “We charge for appearances, ya know. It's...” he paused, and Luisa's heart sank. Realize a Dream had a shoestring budget, meant for transporting and housing the kids and their families...

 

On the other end of the line she could hear what sounded like a feminine voice, though it was difficult to tell, and she couldn't make out words.

 

“Right, so Mizar says you're some charity that works fer kids,” the voice said. “I'm Stan Pines, by the way. Yeah, so looks like I'll just be passing you over to Mizar now.”

 

“Grunkle Staaan!” the female voice called in the background, and Stan Pines gave a long suffering sigh before he continued. “And it looks like there's not an appearance charge for kid charities. Yeah, here pumpkin, take over.”

 

The female voice Luisa had heard took over then, bright and cheerful. “Hi, Jamie told us you'd be calling!”

 

“Uh...um...yes,” Luisa said, scrambling to regain her dignity. “Am I now speaking with...Mizar?”

 

“You bet you are!” the woman chirped. “So, I'm gonna need to know what exactly this kid is asking Alcor to do. And you'd better be honest with me,” she said, voice suddenly deathly serious. “Because if I find out you're doing all this to lure my brother in so you can try to, I dunno, enslave or bind or destroy him, you'd better hope he finishes you off before I can find you, okay? Just so we're clear,” Mizar finished, tone once again bright and chirpy.

 

“I...of course,' Luisa said, only momentarily taken aback by this point. “Did Dr. Galucio give you any of the material I sent to him?”

 

“Oh yeah, Jamie showed me everything,” Mizar said. “I just had to get that out in the open, that's all. So, when and where?”

 

“Well...we were rather hoping to send the Dreamer to Gravity Falls,” Luisa began, “and have the meet up happen there.”

 

“Okay, so what's their mobility like?” Mizar began. “There aren't a lot of places to stay in Gravity Falls, what kind of budget are we talking about here?”

 

 

Luisa had scribbled down everything she and Mizar had talked about the day before – and there had been quite a bit, as even though Gravity Falls was a small town, it was still the center of the Transcendence, and for a kid obsessed with the paranormal (like Riley, their Dreamer) it was something they'd want a good, through tour of.

 

With Mizar behind it, there was a chance of getting Alcor along with that, as a tour guide, and that was going above and beyond what Riley had asked for, since they'd just wanted to meet the demon (and Luisa still suspected Twin Souls of being part of that inspiration though she refused to say so).

 

Luisa was typing her notes into her computer for better legibility when she felt something at her elbow, and out of the corner of her eye saw a gloved hand picking up the topmost paper.

 

She spun in her chair, a sharp scold dying on her lips as she caught sight of just who – what – was interrupting her.

 

Luisa might have taken him for a formally dressed human, far too formal for an office of a nonprofit like this, that had wandered into her office by accident, had it not been for the tip of a sharply pointed ear that peeked out of the surprisingly fluffy hair, the batlike wings that moved gently, naturally, at the small of his back, and the fact that his feet were a good six inches off the floor.

 

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and she caught a good look at his eyes, black where they should be white with liquid gold irises, and quirked a smile.

 

“So,” the demon said, and through her brewing confusion and terror Luisa was surprised to note how human his voice sounded, with only undertones of the otherworldy echo that was said to permeate demonic voices. “You're the one trying to get ahold of me through Jamie and Mizar rather than just summoning me.”

 

“There are too many stories of you being angry at being summoned,” Luisa said automatically, still trying to pieced together the reality of Alcor the Dreambender appearing, with no summons or invite, in her office, in the physical realm. He floated around the office as she spoke, looking at the certificates and photos on the walls and peeking into the filing cabinets, but Luisa still had the feeling he was watching her the entire time. “Besides, it's best for us all if I go through official channels to speak with you. Bureaucracy, you realize.”

 

“Oh yes, I've heard enough horror stories about that,” the demon said, apparently satisfied with his inspection. “Mizar and Jamie...sorry, Dr. Gallucio...told me about your little organization and what you wanted. Well, what little you told them. So, spill,” he said, plopping down into the chair facing Luisa's desk, one leg carelessly tossed across the other, leaning back at his ease. “I want details.”

 

Luisa took a deep breath, dug briefly for Riley's file, and began talking.

 

To her surprise, the demon didn't interrupt, just sat and listened, ears flicking now and again. It was unnerving, to be the focus of that golden stare, like the eyes of a predator, but Luisa didn't have her reputation without reason.

 

She finished off her explanation, calm and professional, though inside she still was on full red alert.

 

“...why?” Alcor asked. Luisa paused, looking at the demon, eyes skittering away from meeting his. “Why me? I'm sure you've noticed,” he gestured at himself, from floating top hat to gleamingly shod toe tip, “I'm not exactly child friendly. I'm a demon. Why would you want to bring me within a mile of a child, and why on earth would a child want to meet me, badly enough to bring all of you into it?”

 

“It's likely better than if they'd tried summoning you themself,” Luisa said. “And I'm not entirely sure they could have at the moment if they tried. Mobility issues combined with a few other factors. As for why...”

 

Luisa braced her elbows on the desk, lacing her fingers together. “I can't say exactly why. We have space on the application for Dreamers to explain their Dream, if they want. It can help, sometimes, to persuade someone to play along. But Riley...”

 

She dug for a moment before holding up Riley's application. “See for yourself.”

 

Alcor leaned forward and took the paper gently and Luisa's eyes were drawn for a moment to the pristine gloves he wore, covering the claws she had heard graced the tips of his fingers.

 

His eyes scanned the paper, and Luisa could see him pause and re-read several times, and she had the impression he was as baffled as she was.

 

Alcor carefully passed the paper back, leaning back in his chair as Luisa spoke. “So as you can see, they gave us enough to try and fulfill their Dream, without ever actually coming out and saying why they wanted to meet you. Had it been any other demon we would have said no immediately, of course, but...you do have a bit of a mixed reputation, and so...”

 

Alcor was still watching her carefully, eyes guarded. “And what's in it for me?” he asked when she finished.

 

Luisa blinked a few times, taking a deep breath. Of course. Demon. He'd want something, but it still cut to hear someone bring helping a child down to pure transaction.

 

“I can't do something for nothing,” he said after those few seconds had passed. “Not even when I want to,” and there was pain there, masked but still present, “it's part of being a demon. Even just being physical can require a deal.”

 

“What exactly are you thinking?” Luisa asked, maintaining the professional facade, hands poised over her keyboard to note down the demon's demands, rigid self control keeping them still.

 

“...I need some kind of assurance no one's going to try to bind me for this, first off,” Alcor finally said. “And assurance that it's kept quiet. I can't let it getting out that I go easy on kids, or my whole reputation is going to be ruined...not to mention the danger that presents.”

 

For a moment Luisa wanted to argue, to protest – how could being seen as liking kids be bad for a reputation, unless you were trying to build yourself up as some kind of unfeeling hardass – until her hindbrain, which had still been panicking, began tossing up some of the stories she had read, the ones involving kids, and understanding began to dawn.

 

Alcor nodded, as if seeing the path her thoughts were taking. “Yeah. As for the rest, well...let's start bargaining,” he said, leaning forward eagerly. “Jamie sent you a list, didn't he? Of things to start bargaining with?”

 

“I...thought he was playing a little prank on me,” Luisa admitted, pausing.

 

Alcor grinned, and oh my grandma, what sharp teeth you have, Luisa thought faintly.

 

“He wasn't. Though adding in a lecture about not summoning demons should be on there. I'll likely end up giving one at some point either way,” Alcor said frankly.

 

Luisa blinked a few times before quickly bringing up Dr. Gallucio's email and scanning the contents. A smile, confused but intrigued, tugged at the corner of her mouth, and she leaned forward, mimicking Alcor's posture.

 

“All right, let's bargain. I'm working on a budget here.”

 

 

It took another month to arrange everything. There were traveling expenses, and lodging, and planning out the itinerary, but as Luisa stood by and watched as Riley, with eyes wide and sparkling with wonder, was introduced to Alcor and Mizar, she decided that all the sleepless nights, the nightmares, and all the rest had been worth it.

 

All in all, a job well done.

 

 

Alcor popped up within seconds of the next request to meet him crossing Luisa's desk.

 

The two shared a conspiratorial grin. Luisa may not have been comfortable with the demon yet, but she had a good feeling about this particular partnership.


	105. Actors and Sweaters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay that "imagine meeting the actors" to twin souls movie thing ye? Imagine Mabel going up to the Mizar Actor and being "I love your portrayal of me!" and just gushing over it and---yeah
> 
> Mabel makes both the actors sweaters with the names of their characters in enormous glittery letters on the front.
> 
> (Alcor’s actor discreetly gives his to a fan at their next public appearance. Mizar’s actress is caught on camera ‘out and about’ in hers no less than sixteen times in the next two weeks, and it becomes a staple of her wardrobe.)
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/106131341962/okay-that-imagine-meeting-the-actors-to-twin

 

Richard had been having regular drinking and bitching sessions with Alcor the Dreambender ever since the director and producer had tried summoning him to lift whatever curse was on the Twin Souls movie.

 

Well, Alcor had ceased trying to stop the movie, at least. Not happily, but apparently, listening to Richard complain about having to shoot the thing made him amiable to just letting it be over with for the sake of his drinking buddy.

 

Whatever it was, if it was sympathy for Richard or just being tired of that particular chaos, Alcor stopped the pranking and let them finish the filming. Mostly. With a few hiccups along the way.

 

But at long last, the movie was finished. The premiere was over. The worst of all of producing a movie was finished and done with.

 

Of course, that didn't mean it was all over for Richard and the other actors. Interviews, appearances, convention panels, all part of promoting the movie had been included in their contracts, continuing even after the premiere, which was still a few months off as it went into post-production editing.

 

Under threat of calling up Alcor, though, Richard was getting security at all these appearances. He wasn't dealing with any more Twinners trying to offer him blood or souls or begging to be ravished, thank you very much.

 

Of course, being a demon, Alcor might not have been the best backup for Richard to call on as a threat...but he was using every card he had at this point.

 

 

They were at the second of a string of ten total conventions feature a panel crewed by the entire cast of Twin Souls when Crystal started banging on Richard's door, bursting into the room as soon as he opened the door.

 

“Did you hear? Did you hear?” she asked in a sing-song, dancing around Richard's hotel room.

 

“I'm avoiding everything I can until we get out of here,” Richard said, deadpan. “Note the hiding in my hotel room part of that plan?”

 

It wasn't that he disliked Crystal, in fact he rather liked her...but she was still a bit much for him when all he wanted was to get out of all this as soon as possible.

 

Crystal had played Mizar to Richard's Alcor, which made him cautious of how he treated her in public. The slightest show of affection and the fans were shipping them as if they were the characters they portrayed.

 

Crystal didn't mind it, but then, she hadn't had people approaching her the way Richard had. _She_ wasn't playing the demon. She, in fact, actually managed to enjoy Twin Souls and had known what she was getting into.

 

Everyone wanted to be her character, and the PR department was good at getting rid of the death threats from people who saw her as coming between them and 'Alcor', so Crystal still didn't quite get how bad some of the fans could be. Not that Richard wanted her to know. He rather preferred none of them knew, including himself.

 

“Mizar's going to be here,” Crystal was squealing, ignoring Richard's sullen act with the ease of long practice. “The real, honest to goodness Mizar! She's scheduled to give a lecture tomorrow! This is the best day ever!”

 

Richard sighed and flopped onto his bed. “Crys, listen, you know she's not going to be like your character...”

 

Crystal dropped onto Richard's bed, making him bounce. “Well, duh. I mean, Alcor's nothing like your character...right?” she paused, looking down at Richard.

 

He made a rude noise. “Not even close,” he said.

 

Crystal nodded. “So yeah, I don't expect Mizar to be like the Twin Souls Mizar but, Rich, I've wanted to meet her for a long time, okay? The rumors say she's like, really girly, with glitter and sparkles, but really badass too, and big on the supernatural rights and...I just want to meet her, you know? I hope she doesn't hate Twin Souls as much as Alcor does...” she added, trailing off in worry.

 

Richard huffed, amused. “According to Alcor, his sister, Mizar, remember that? She's his sister? She likes to tease him with the fanfiction. I think you'll be fine.”

 

 

Apparently, Mizar came early to conventions.

 

And she attended Twin Souls events.

 

Richard found that one out the hard way, when a tiny middle aged brunette bounced up to them after the panel in a whirl of hair and bright yarn.

 

At first Richard had flinched back, experience with Twinners (and especially Twin Souls Moms) making him shy away from anyone who came up to him like that.

 

Behind her, then, he noticed the woman's...brother, it had to be her brother, the faces were too similar to be anything else...rolling his eyes.

 

When he saw that Richard was watching, he winked, that eye flipping from a normal brown to black and gold for a split second, and Richard found himself relaxing, as paradoxical as it was to relax in the presence of a demon.

 

If that was Alcor, then...this must be Mizar. And odd as it was, he felt safer right now with Alcor and Mizar than he did with fans of his movie.

 

At least these ones wouldn't proposition him.

 

Mizar, meanwhile, was chattering with Crystal, both of them talking a mile a minute, with Crystal gushing over Mizar's accomplishments and Mizar over Crystal's portrayal of her, or at least as much as she could see in the previews and 'leaked' clips.

 

“Of course, bro-bro doesn't want to go watch it with me,” Mizar was saying, “but I mean, he hates everything Twin Souls, so of course he wouldn't.”

 

“Oh, really?” Crystal asked, glancing back at Mizar – Mabel, she'd introduced herself as Mabel somewhere in all that chatter but somehow Richard kept thinking of her as Mizar – back at Mabel's brother, who shrugged, crossing his arms and looking away sulkily.

 

“Well, they are shipping you two,” Richard said. “I'd be pretty upset too.”

 

“Eh, it's not really us, so I'm cool with it. Oh! I almost forgot,” Mabel said, digging into the purse at her side.

 

She pulled a pair of sweaters out, far too big for that tiny bag to hold, and Richard glanced over at Alcor, who shrugged again, this time with a little grin.

 

One sweater was unceremoniously shoved to Crystal, and Richard found himself in possession of the second. Mabel was grinning broadly, almost dancing in place, while Alcor looked at Richard with a mix of sympathy and steel, a 'sorry about this but you're not getting out of it so don't even think about it', and Richard unfolded the sweater with a great deal of trepidation.

 

“Broseph told me all about how you two were playing us and I loved it so much I just felt inspired,” Mabel was saying. “Good thing I'm fast with my needles, I wasn't sure you'd be here to give them to! So much easier than trying to mail them or getting my brother to deliver them!”

 

Richard had to give it to her, as he stared at the glittery monstrosity in his hands – it was incredibly well crafted, the sort of work that came from someone with a great deal of experience.

 

Unfortunately, that experience seemed to come equipped with massive amounts of sequins, day glo yarn, and glittery yarn that spelled out “ALCOR!” across the front of the sweater.

 

Crystal's, Richard could see, was similar, but in a different color palette and with “MIZAR!” across the front.

 

Well, a sweater was better than bodily fluids any day. And with protective brother and drinking buddy Alcor still standing nearby, well, it didn't hurt to be grateful.

 

The thought was nice, even if Richard was never, ever going to wear the thing.

 

...maybe he could auction it off for charity, later. Alcor wouldn't get mad at him for that, right? A sweater made by Mizar for the actor that played Alcor. Yeah. Make sure it was a charity aimed at kids, and he'd be off the hook with Alcor, he'd bet – and everyone else would just think it was good PR.

 

 

Crystal, on the other hand, would be 'caught' wearing her sweater so often it became iconic for her.


	106. Find the Garter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something I submitted to the blog quite awhile back:  
> I saw this story on Ehell and immediately thought of Mabel and Henry. Please tell me they did something similar at their wedding if they did the garter. ;)
> 
> One of my relatives, when doing the garter capture, set up an amazing joke with the bride. To this day, I don’t know how they managed to do this without anybody noticing, but before he pulled the garter out of her enormously fluffy skirt, he pulled out a rubber chicken, a set of keys (that another member of the wedding party claimed), what looked like their airline tickets for the honeymoon (I’m assuming fakes), a pair of his own underwear (so he pantomimed), and a number of other things. The guests were nearly unconscious from laughter.
> 
> This is one hundred percent canon also Henry was not expecting any of this so he was getting more and more confused as time went on
> 
> did dipper enchant mabels garter? yes yes he did

 

Despite everything, Henry was a little surprised at how few shenanigans the twins had come up with so far for the wedding.

 

Well, he knew how important today was to all of them, but still. It was a party. Sooner or later, they were going to do something.

 

And he was fine with that! Really! He just...wished he had a clue what they were planning.

 

But for now...he was just going to enjoy his wedding, this wedding to this amazing woman he'd never imagined he'd ever meet in his wildest daydreams, enjoy being accepting into the most welcoming family that he could never have imagined, and just take the shenanigans as they came.

 

 

If there was one thing the Pines family was good at (besides taking down power mad demons and cults and surviving no matter the odds) it was at throwing a party.

 

And this wedding was a damn good one, if they said so themselves.

 

Despite their being dozens of mischief makers in attendance – the bride and the bride's beloved twin brother among them – the amount of chaos was kept to respectable levels, respect for the fact that, while this was a party, it was a wedding keeping things more low key than at some events.

 

 

They hadn't gone with everything traditional – this was a Pines wedding, and they were going to do things their way, even if they did choose to do quite a few things the 'traditional' way, albeit with their own spin.

 

But there was one tradition they had decided to go with that Henry was suddenly having intense doubts about.

 

It had been one thing to talk about doing the bouquet and garter tosses while in their living room, discussing the wedding. Henry had been a little surprised Mabel had wanted to do them, but why not. Any symbolism about the whole thing was irrelevant, though they both agreed that they weren't doing the whole 'put the garter on the bouquet catcher' bit.

 

With this crowd, it was a safer bet to just have the catcher put it on his arm (or whatever appendage it would fit, considering the guest list).

 

It was another now that the reality was setting in that Henry was going to have to reach under his wife's (wife! Mabel was his wife now, he was her _husband_ , it was still sinking in a bit) skirt in front of all these people to retrieve her garter, which she hopefully hadn't shoved too high up her leg.

 

But Mabel was already throwing the bouquet, a special one she'd made specifically for this, covered in the glitter and sparkle that was her trademark. It left a tail of glitter in the air, a trail of lights like a shooting star that hung in the air and floated gently to the ground, as she pitched it (no dainty toss for Mabel Pines) into the mixed crowd poised and waiting.

 

 

As if sensing his brother's nerves, Dipper popped up beside Henry. He had a slice of the bro-bro cake, munching away at it happily, and his suit was still as spotlessly white as it had been during the ceremony, but he was much more amused now, much less the remote demon he'd been a half hour ago.

 

“Heeey,” he drawled, swallowing the bite of cake. “How're you holding up so far, Mr. Pines?”

 

Henry couldn't stop the goofy grin that passed over his face at the sound of his new name, and it was his wedding day, so he didn't even try.

 

“That's what I thought,” Dipper said, affectionately bumping shoulders with Henry. “Uh oh, looks like she's ready for you out there.”

 

Henry had to pause and look at Dipper oddly then. “Dipper, you freak out at the slightest hint that your sister and I do more than cuddle. What are you planning?”

 

Dipper grinned and took a bite of his cake rather than answering, pointing with his fork towards his sister, who was catcalling for Henry along with her bridesmaids.

 

Henry gave Dipper one more deeply suspicious look before he stood.

 

Mabel and the rest of the guests cheered, and Henry was reminded again of just how many people there were there.

 

But Mabel was beaming, and so was Henry, even if his face currently matched his hair, and the whoops and cheers were all good-natured teasing, so with the desire to just get it over with Henry knelt in front of Mabel.

 

She kicked up a foot, grinning down at her new husband, and he smiled back before beginning to search for the edge of the skirts.

 

It took him almost a full minute to find Mabel under all the layers of her dress, to general amusement.

 

Even after Henry finally found that upraised foot, there was just too much floof for him to see, unless he was willing to quite literally lift Mabel's dress and head on underneath.

 

Not a chance.

 

...not in public at least.

 

But with all those layers bunched around his arms and face, Henry was working blind...though with the way Mabel was giggling, she didn't mind a bit.

 

Henry had to laugh at it too, though his was muffled by all the fabric.

 

Then he felt something at the tips of his fingers, something that wasn't skin or fabric, and he tugged, feeling it come after him.

 

He leaned back, pulling out his prize...and found himself face to beak with a rubber chicken.

 

Henry stared incredulously at it. Around him was a mortifying silence as everyone tried to understand where the chicken had come from. Henry glanced up at Mabel for answers and found her biting her lip, eyes sparkling and about one motion away from breaking.

 

Without thinking Henry gave the chicken a squeeze and it let out the most pathetic squeak he'd ever heard. At the sound, Mabel finally lost it.

 

She cackled, her howls echoing across the clearing, echoed seconds later by the rest of the gathered crowds.

 

Henry glanced over at Dipper, who was cackling as hard as his sister, and had his suspicions confirmed.

 

Henry rolled his eyes with a chuckle, set the rubber chicken to the side, and reached back under Mabel's voluminous skirts.

 

And pulled out Mabel's grappling hook.

 

He stared at it for a few seconds blankly as the laughter continued, louder than before.

 

Henry put it down beside the rubber chicken. He paused before he dove back under the skirt to look up at Mabel.

 

“You talked your brother into doing something, didn't you,” he said rather than asked.

 

Mabel grinned down at him, bright and wide and so happy. She raised her skirt a little, to general catcalls and laughter. “Why don't'cha find out?”

 

Henry laughed and shook his head, but dove into Mabel's skirts after that garter.

 

 

The rubber chicken and grappling hook Henry had almost understood. They were small enough to reasonably be stashed under Mabel's huge skirts.

 

The same could be said for the car keys, hot glue gun, and the half-finished knitting.

 

But the coat rack?

 

That was taking things a bit far.

 

Though admittedly, the video of Henry slowly pulling the tall bronze pole out from under Mabel's skirts was going to be a highlight of the reception video, especially the part where he had to go hand over hand to get it all out.

 

He was almost expecting it when he pulled out Dipper's regular top hat after that, and stood to carefully hang it on the coat rack.

 

Henry was a bit worried when his questing hand found a hilt, and he pulled Candy's broadsword out from under Mabel's skirt like Excalibur from the stone.

 

Candy came and reclaimed her sword while everyone was still laughing at the look at Henry's face.

 

Wendy came forward to claim the axe he pulled out next, and Stan the eight-ball headed cane.

 

Henry was sure he finally had it when he felt lace under his hand but no, nope, it was a scanty little lacy nightgown that came from under Mabel's skirt.

 

Henry's face turned as red as his hair, and he wadded the nightgown up and pitched it at Dipper's face as hard and quickly as he could.

 

His new brother's squeal was well worth the embarrassment.

 

Henry glanced up again at his new bride, who was still howling with laughter, openly enjoying her brother's extra dramatics as he flailed against the lace covering his face.

 

Mabel glanced down at Henry and winked. Encouraged, he reached under and this time, came back bearing the slick circle of blue silk and lace Mabel had wrapped just under her knee, hidden below the enchantment that Henry suspected she and her brother had concocted.

 

Henry, in a rush of victory, brandished the garter overhead, and the trees shook with the cheers of their guests.

 

Suddenly remembering that his new in-laws had witnessed the whole thing, Henry glanced over at their table, but they seemed to be amused by all the antics, if a little on edge.

 

Still...of all the things Henry had seen Mabel or Dipper pulling today, he hadn't predicted this one.

 

Henry scrambled to his feet, still beet red, and bent to kiss Mabel before waving the garter again, to general applause and more laughter.

 

Surrounded by laughter and a gentle prank wasn't a bad way to start a marriage, all told.


	107. What Might Have Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry's first time seeing Dipper before he was Alcor, like in a scrapbook or a 'guide to' video. Sees how he could have lived his life, and how young he was when it happened. After His date with Mabel where she tells the story about Dipper, but also before the triplets. Feels ensue. Dipper walks in.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/142785827511/henrys-first-time-seeing-dipper-before-he-was

 

The Pines Memorial Library was full of strange things, tucked away in random closets and corners, with a few displayed proudly in the Library proper, a tribute to the many phases the home had gone through during its lifetime.

 

Most of the displayed things were fairly tacky, but that had been Stan's stock-in-trade for long enough they were almost charming, in a kitschy sort of way.

 

Well, except when Henry opened a door and came face to face with some eldrich horror from the depths of Stan's mind and had to bite back a scream. Then they weren't charming.

 

Still, it sometimes led to rather interesting surprises – like the stack of games in one closet, or the random stacks of books Stan had forgotten about.

 

Up in the attic, half of the space had been cleared out for Mabel's craft room, but there was still an area for storage, and the rule of strange surprises continued, though there was a hefty dose of Mabel and Dipper's things added to this stash for variety.

 

Henry and Mabel were deep in the bowels of the attic, surrounded by splinters and boxes as they searched through the stacks in a bout of spring cleaning, to get rid of the oldest things and clear out some space.

 

Both of them were covered in dust and cobwebs but they were, amazingly enough, making progress.

 

Henry opened up another box, at this point not bothering to check the label first. He had been after opening a box and finding some of Stan's old man magazines and feeling the need to bleach his eyes, but too many were mislabeled for him to keep doing that for long. Not if he wanted to make any progress.

 

This box was full of videotapes and several of Mabel's scrapbooks, ones Henry was sure he hadn't seen before.

 

Silently Henry put it to the side, to take downstairs later. Mabel liked going through her old scrapbooks with Henry, and while he may not have enjoyed the process of scrapbooking itself, he couldn't tear his eyes from Mabel as she got into telling him the stories behind the photos.

 

 

Henry had almost forgotten about the box after hauling it downstairs, as there had been more cleaning to do, and lunch to be eaten, and he'd gotten distracted.

 

He remembered it three days later when he nearly tripped over it, smacking his foot into it as he passed. One scrapbook flopped open inside the box, slipping off the top of the stack.

 

Henry froze, waiting, but no one else seemed to be around, and his mind reminded his racing heart that no one here would be...upset at him for a moment of clumsiness.

 

Heart still racing, Henry picked up the fallen scrapbook, straightening the pages and dusting off the cover, the words 'Summer Memories' coming clear from under the light coating.

 

He meant to put it back and wait to look through it with Mabel, but the cover, the sheer weight of the scrapbook, the age of it made him curious. Looking at the first page couldn't hurt...

 

Henry flipped open the cover and had to sit down, staring down at the picture glued to the first page, not able to tear his eyes away from it to read the words just yet.

 

It was one thing to have Mabel tell him about her brother and how he ended up as a demon (and Henry believed her, really he did. It was an outrageous story but the Transcendence had happened and there were marks of it everywhere and Mabel wasn't a good enough actress to hide how much pain talking about it gave her), but it was another to see the proof here, to see a very human, very young Dipper hunched uncomfortably next to his beaming sister and grunkle, beside the words 'First Day in Gravity Falls!'.

 

It was easy to see his girlfriend in the child she had been, all the potential there for what she'd grown into, all the traits that growing older had refined.

 

What hurt was the potential he could see in the pictures and stories of Dipper Mabel had in her scrapbook as Henry slowly turned the pages, could read in the offhand comments on photos about his plans, his interests, and sometimes it was hard to connect this human, child Dipper to the Dipper that existed now.

 

And sometimes so painfully easy to see what might have been, to see the reflections of it in his brother.

 

Henry closed the scrapbook, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he ran a hand over his hair, taking a moment to absorb it all.

 

He glanced back down at the box. This scrapbook ended roughly a week before the Transcendence, by Henry's rough reckoning. Not that he could blame Mabel for not being able to scrapbook the Transcendence or its aftermath. Carefully he knelt and replaced the scrapbook, hands lingering over its cover.

 

There were still tapes in there. He should probably wait for Mabel...but would these be happy or painful for her to watch?

 

Henry's hands were sorting the videos as he debated, as they were all labeled – oh, that one was Soos', should probably see if he wanted that. Mabel might like to see the ones that were labeled “Mabel's Guides”, he decided, setting a few of those on the end table.

 

As for the “Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained”...

 

“Hey, Mabel?” Henry called out into the Library, where Mabel was taking care of the reshelving for the night. “I found these old videos, Dipper and Mabel's Guides, and...”

 

“Oh, wow, I forgot all about those!” Mabel laughed, poking her head around the door, her arms full of books. “I'll be done with these soon, why don't you go ahead and start watching some, I'll join you in a couple minutes.”

 

Well. That was easy, Henry thought. Intending to start with one of Mabel's videos, he popped a tape into the player without checking the label, starting a little when Dipper's voice came out of the speakers instead, proclaiming this to be “Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained: Anomaly Number Thirteen – The Mobius Chicken Strip.”

 

Henry almost turned it off, but it was just too interesting, and before he realized what had happened he'd watched nearly the entire video.

 

But one thought keep coming back. _This was who Dipper used to be. This is what could have been. Not demon, but human, alive and making videos about Gravity Falls, exploring and having the time of his life._

 

Henry jumped when a clawed hand landed on his shoulder. “Hey Henry, what'cha...oh no, not those!” Dipper said, letting go of Henry's shoulder to cover his face. “Come on, stop watching, those are so embarrassing!”

 

Henry twisted in his seat to look up at his fiancee's brother. Dipper paused, patting at his face. “What? Do I have something on my face or something?”

 

Henry didn't always have an easy time showing his emotions – his father had beaten most of that out of him early, and he was still getting better at the spontaneous shows of affection that the twins were so good at.

 

But this time...he was hugging the surprised Dipper almost before he'd realized he was moving. Dipper squeaked, a sound made extra hilarious by his terrifying demon state, which still freaked Henry out now and then.

 

Faintly, he heard Mabel open the door, and happily ask, “Hey, is it group hug time?”

 

“Looks like,” Dipper said faintly, face pressed to Henry's shoulder. Henry grunted softly as Mabel latched onto both of them, squeezing tightly – and when Mabel hugged, she hugged with everything she had.

 

“So, what was all that about?” Dipper asked when they finally separated. “Not that I'm complaining, mind.”

 

Henry stammered, saved from answering by Mabel. “Oh wow, hey, Dipper, look at the dorky videos we made!”

 

“Mabel, no, put that away,” Dipper protested, laughing. Mabel grinned and pushed play instead as Dipper continued to fake protest, and Henry let the matter drop.

 

There would be other times to explain how he'd felt. For now...for now, he'd just accept how things were, and stop being saddened by how they could have been.


	108. Premiere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Twin Souls Premiere has finally arrived!

Of all the things she could have worn to the premiere of the Twin Souls movie, somehow Richard wasn't surprised that Crystal chose to put her Mizar knitted sweater on over her designer gown.

 

Little wonder people kept getting her and Mizar confused. It would have been amusing...if people hadn't kept confusing Richard and Alcor.

 

Seriously – human, demon. Why were they so hard to keep apart for some people?

 

Richard was standing firm that he wasn't wearing the sweater Mizar gave him to the premiere. He hadn't sold it yet, but he still thought he would. Not that he didn't appreciate having a hand-knit sweater, but one with 'Alcor' across the front?

 

He didn't need any more fuel to the fire that he was really Alcor in disguise, ridiculous as that was. Richard had hinted his thoughts to Alcor, and gotten an equally vague go-ahead, although he had a feeling Mizar might be a tad disappointed he broke up the set. Or she might be amused. It was hard to tell sometimes, with Mizar, when she was teasing and when she was serious.

 

Richard also stood firm that he needed two invitations to the premiere. It would have been four, but Pacifica had her own through being a financial backer, and Mizar's husband, though willing to put up with quite a bit, drew the line at actually attending the premiere of the Twin Souls movie.

 

Richard had told Crystal and Pacifica that he was inviting Mizar and Alcor so they wouldn't also invite them, and swore both Crystal and Pacifica to secrecy when it came to his invites.

 

Perhaps it was a bit petty and mean of him, but after the hell that was shooting this movie, he wanted a little revenge. And he had a feeling watching this movie with those two was going to turn it from painful to hilarious.

 

If the one meeting he'd had with Mizar and Alcor's stories about her were anything to go by, she'd drag Alcor to this, just for the entertainment of seeing his dramatics (exaggerated but heartfelt) over how much he hated the entire franchise.

 

Richard...might have been looking forward to that a bit.

 

Hey, the producers and directors had made his life miserable for more than a year now, it was time for a little payback. And he'd included a note with the invitations asking Alcor to please, oh please, don't actually ruin this premiere? This was just for fun? Because annoying and mildly terrorizing everyone who hadn't been putting up with all of them for this whole debacle (the backers primarily, though some of the other people coming could use a good scare) was one thing, but actual chaos and terror were something else altogether.

 

Alcor claimed he made no promises, but Richard had a feeling he knew Alcor well enough by now to trust him. And he'd have Pacifica and Mizar there to back him up.

 

Crystal was excited about it, at least. She'd already been excited about the premiere – this was her first big, blockbuster film, just as it was for Richard, so even he couldn't deny that excitement despite the movie they'd made – but knowing the real Mizar was going to be there?

 

She was as excited as a kid on Christmas morning, and Richard had a feeling that just inviting Crystal and Mizar to hang out could create more chaos than he and Alcor were capable of.

 

Then again, Richard suspected Crystal and Mizar had been communicating since they first met anyway...

 

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the hotel room door. “Hey, are you coming, or are you just going to stay in there and sulk?” Crystal called through the door. “I'm sure Mizar and I can riff on our movie without you...”

 

Richard rolled his eyes but opened the door. “Was having trouble with the tie,” he said simply. “And got lost in thought. Let's hope the three of you don't cause too much chaos after all this work.”

 

“So long as you get paid, you don't care if this movie gets distributed or not,” Crystal teased as they made their way down to the lobby. “I think there's quite a few places refusing to show our movie as it is.”

 

“Very true,” Richard agreed. “Maybe we'll get lucky and enough will refuse we won't have to do the second.”

 

“Killjoy,” Crystal teased, lightly slapping his arm before they both paused, took a deep breath, and prepared to face the paparazzi outside.

 

 

Richard was beginning to wonder if Alcor, Mizar, or Pacifica were going to show up to this premiere. Everyone else had arrived and walked the gauntlet outside, but those three were still missing, and the show would start soon.

 

Then, from outside, the photographers (who had been beginning to pack up, sure everyone had arrived and they needed to get these photos back to the office) began to roar, the flashes from their cameras a veritable storm, and Richard smiled into his drink.

 

He should have known Pacifica would make an entrance.

 

Richard peered out the entrance, and got a good view of the trio. Pacifica was as elegant as he'd expected, in a slender column of a dress and with slim golden earrings and necklace.

 

The dress, Richard noted absently, was almost exactly the same shade of blue as Alcor's fire.

 

On the other hand, Mizar was in an oversized sweater, one long enough to double as a dress. And Richard was fairly sure she had made it herself, as it proclaimed “Woodzar 5ever!!!” across the front in glittery yarn and was covered in sequins.

 

Between them floated Alcor, arm in arm with both ladies, looking mightily put out as they each teased him, haughtily ignoring the questions thrown at them by the interviewers brave enough to continue their jobs in the face of a demon.

 

Richard could only just make out Pacifica's voice as they came closer, gliding down the carpet, informing the reporters that “Alcor doesn't enjoy this franchise at all, he's merely humoring us – aren't you, lamby-pot-pie?”

 

“'Lamby-pot-pie' is a declaration of war and you know it,” Alcor said flatly, face set and refusing to look at Pacifica as one ear flicked like an annoyed cat.

 

“You say the sweetest things,” Pacifica cooed, pinching Alcor's cheek to the reporter's horror, and only their friendship, short as it was, let Richard see how much fun Pacifica was having (and how much of an act she was putting on. Not with the comfort with Alcor, but with the flirting, and his friendship with the demon told him why Alcor was not just tolerating it but was teasing back, in his own way, for the cameras.).

 

Mizar, for her part, was grinning as brightly as her sweater dress and dancing in place with excitement, almost dragging her companions into the theater while waving at the reporters with her whole unoccupied arm.

 

Once the doors had closed behind them, the noise of the still-stunned and frantically shouting reporters was cut off as if with a knife, and everyone who was coming to the premiere had arrived.

 

Inside, the mood was awkward at best, and stunned silence spread from the door as more and more people realized just who had arrived. Most everyone who had worked on the film knew about the failed summon – and quite a few of them knew, but had kept silent, about Richard and Alcor's regular drink'n'bitch sessions (that had turned into friendship, though most of them didn't think it had gone that far).

 

But it was one thing to know someone who worked with on a daily basis was friends/drinking buddies with a demon and another to see said demon in the flesh, so to speak, within arm's reach and about to watch something you had worked on that you knew he hated.

 

Grinning, Richard started forward to greet them, only for a blur of color to burst past and attach to Mizar. Crystal and Mizar immediately began to squeal to each other, excited and happy and contagious as rainbow glitter and sugary bubbles.

 

Richard shook his head with amusement and changed trajectory enough to pick up drinks for the newcomers, since Crystal had their attention.

 

“Hey,” he said once he was close enough to be heard over Mabel and Crystal's happy chatter. “Glad you could make it.”

 

“Well, we couldn't let you suffer alone, now could we?” Pacifica asked dryly, accepting a glass with a smile. She glanced around the room, judging it effortlessly. “Did we miss most of the mingling?”

 

“Yeah, movie should be starting soon,” Richard said. He looked at Alcor, who was eye level with Richard for once since he was floating, the height difference less obvious than usual. “Think you're ready for this?”

 

Alcor winced, then smirked. “Are you? I have no intention of taking this quietly.”

 

“I expected no less,” Richard replied, grinning wider yet.

 

 

Everyone filed into the theater in near silence, and Richard knew it was only how close he still stood to the demon twins that kept someone from confronting him about giving them his extra tickets.

 

He was pretty sure both the director and producer were questioning their life choices by this point, though. And of all the backers and those who had pushed to create this movie, only Pacifica Northwest was still calm, gliding into the theater on the demon's arm as if she owned it.

 

Mabel and Crystal sat at Pacifica's side, leaving a seat at Alcor's other side for Richard, which he took, offering up a tub of popcorn.

 

It was almost a pity he hadn't brought a few beers to share, he thought as the lights went down. Then again, this was probably best faced sober.

 

 

Alcor sat silently scowling through the opening credits, and Richard was beginning to wonder if this had actually been the best idea, when the demon began making a soft snorting.

 

The film was doing an aerial shot of 'Gravity Falls' as Richard turned to Alcor, a bit worried, and he looked over just in time for the demon to start snorting back laughter in earnest.

 

Beside him, Pacifica was already snarking. “Is that supposed to be the high school? You could fit the entirety of Gravity Falls in there, let alone just the teens.”

 

Meanwhile, Mabel was excitedly exclaiming over Crystal's rendition of her, even if it was a rather warped rendition through the Twin Souls lens.

 

But when 'Al' came on the screen, all three of them began snorting. When the special effects (which Richard knew the director had fought long and hard for, for reasons he didn't understand) kicked in, making the screen around Al blurry and adding sparkles and soft effects (some of which looked suspiciously like lace and roses to Richard's disgusted eye) to the air around him, Pacifica was the first to lose it, the twins cracking up a split second later.

 

Like a rock thrown in still water, their laughter rippled across the theater, drawing laughter from everyone else, and from there, none of them could take their own movie seriously anymore.

 

 

They were still laughing when the movie was over, with Pacifica and Mizar teaming up to tease a still chuckling Alcor, quoting lines and re-enacting non-romantic scenes at each other, with help from Crystal and Richard.

 

Alcor was still making a point of reminding everyone that he still hated Twin Souls every so often, just to be sure they didn't think he'd changed his mind just because he was laughing.

 

By this point, even the director (whose baby this movie was) and the producer were chuckling, though Richard suspected that was at least half relief that the demon wasn't about to kill them over a perceived insult.

 

The newspapers were going to be full of this tomorrow, Richard was sure. Rumors and theories about why the Dreambender attended the premiere of Twin Souls, something most knew he hated by now.

 

But that was for tomorrow.

 

For tonight, this had been a great idea, and Richard was going to enjoy every last minute of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep meaning to separate the Richard stories into their own folder and keep getting sidetracked. Hopefully by noting it here I can make myself remember. :)


	109. Richard and Pacifica

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard and Pacifica - some snippets of their friendship.

 

Richard had always had a bit of an admiration for Pacifica Northwest – just about everybody knew where she had come from, what she had given up for her ideals (even if it was unlikely she was going to be cut off forever, Northwest pride in bloodlines being what it was – her point remained, and she was stubborn enough to continue to say no, no matter what her parents promised).

 

For Richard, the admiration was a little more personal. _Vixen_ , the show that had catapulted Pacifica to stardom, had been predicted to be a failure. It was Pacifica's acting that had saved the show from being the mess everyone had expected, and Richard had always hoped that he'd someday have it in him to save a show the way Pacifica had.

 

Well, his curse was that apparently, his 'I hate everything about this and pray for everyone involved, including myself, to find the sweet release of death' portrayal of Alcor (which was only about half acting) meant that the show he was saving was Twin Souls. Twin freaking Souls.

 

Richard never thought he'd get to meet Pacifica...but then again, how could he ever have imagined the circumstances that lead to it, meeting her through his friendship with the Dreambender, of all creatures?

 

Richard really hadn't expected to see Pacifica again after that impromptu dinner with her and Alcor, even though they had exchanged numbers. That was practically professional etiquette, bolstered by the fact that they both knew and got along with a demon and therefore might need that backup.

 

Still, Richard was very surprised when he did get a text a few days after meeting Pacifica, asking him to come meet her at another out of the way diner if he were free.

 

He had to be cautious getting there – Twin Souls fans were more vicious than most, and the paparazzi were tenacious, so if he were caught going to meet someone, the rumors immediately would fly and the rage over him 'betraying Mizar' would begin.

 

Though who knew, Pacifica had been seen in Alcor's presence before, as friends. Maybe they'd let it lie...?

 

...better to be careful.

 

Richard found Pacifica in another small back booth, tapping away at her phone. She stashed it away as he approached, watching him with a touch of wariness, hands folded atop the table.

 

The conversation was kept light as Richard glanced over the menu and ordered, easy topics that didn't mention demons or magic.

 

Until after the waitress was out of earshot and unlikely to return until their food was ready.

 

“So,” Pacifica said, stirring her coffee as she eyed Richard. “How long have you known Alcor?”

 

Richard paused, his own coffee halfway to his lips, lowering it as he thought. “I'm...really not sure,” he said honestly. “Director summoned him to ask for help – thought the movie was cursed – and we started weekly drinking nights that week. I think...we changed that to bi-weekly about a month later. So...three months? Four? I'm really not sure.”

 

Pacifica nodded absently, finally taking a sip of her coffee. “He likes you,” she said bluntly. “Which is why I'm willing to say this. He may be a demon, but he's unique. Truly one of a kind. The only one capable of being hurt. Emotionally. And there's been a lot.”

 

Richard paused as he processed what Pacifica was hinting at. “I'm not going to use him, if that's what you're getting at,” he said, as blunt as Pacifica, and a little hurt. “We're...well, I'd like to think we're as much friends as it's possible to be. I consider him a friend as well as a drinking buddy. I mean, it started as just the two of us complaining about Twin Souls, but I at least enjoy his company.”

 

Pacifica watched his little rant, head tilted. She smiled softly as he finished, running out of words. “Well, that's good. I think I like you too, so I wouldn't have enjoyed ruining your life if you'd been trying to use my friend.”

 

The threat was delivered in complete deadpan, matter of fact tones, which only made it more believable. Pacifica leaned back in the booth, still watching Richard. “There...have been others,” she said after an uncomfortable amount of time. “They pretended to be friends to myself or Mizar so they could use us or Alcor.”

 

“Oh,” Richard said softly. “Well, he's the one who came to me – I just enjoyed having someone else around who hates Twin Souls as much as I do. Speaking of which...” he leaned on the table, arms crossed, a smirk starting to form on his face. “If you're such good friends with Alcor, why are you backing a movie made from something he hates so much?”

 

Pacifica mirrored his pose, grinning wickedly. “Let me tell you about the prank war that dork started almost ten years ago...”

 

 

Some part of Richard knew that, sooner or later, there was going to be trouble over being friends with a demon. He knew it was likely, but he still hoped it wouldn't happen.

 

After all, he was keeping it low-key. Aside from the set and that one time with Pacifica, he and Alcor had consistently met in his apartment, keeping it private. After realizing what he'd signed up for by agreeing to be part of the Twin Souls movie, Richard had become a bit obsessive with keeping his private life, well, private.

 

Mostly because everyone now seemed to think they were entitled to know everything about him just because he was acting in a movie.

 

And what he didn't let them know, they made up out of whole cloth.

 

Which was probably what led to his current situation.

 

Richard knew, in that detached way of things that didn't affect you, that there were protests about the Twin Souls movie. Mostly, the protests were mild – people upset on the internet over the movie 'glorifying' demons in one way or another, arguments over how 'problematic' the franchise was, and the like.

 

Thankfully, after all the fan debacles and Richard's fits over them, security was tight on this movie, so until now, the entire cast had been protected from the truly virulent protests.

 

At the moment, thought, kneeling on a cold cement floor while people around him did...things...Richard rather felt like it would have been nice to know about some of this ahead of time.

 

No one was really speaking to Richard, hadn't from the beginning. There had been a woman while he was getting a snack at the corner store, storming up to him while ranting, and when he'd been distracted by her they'd jumped him during the brief lapse in security, dragged him into some kind of car with a bag over his head and tied him up, and now he was here, with someone in a robe on each side of him keeping him down on the floor.

 

...if he got out of this he was rubbing it in everyone's face. He told them there was a good chance of this ending up like something out of a horror novel. He was missing hanging out with Pacifica and Crystal for this bullshit!

 

...at least the bag was gone. Sometimes it was the little things.

 

Richard heard the word 'cleansing' being tossed about, but that didn't reassure him. He'd heard of cleansings gone wrong, probably everybody had by now, and you didn't kidnap somebody just to sprinkle holy water over their head and let them go their merry way.

 

But security or Alcor or somebody could get here anytime, really, now would be good.

 

Suddenly remembering the handkerchief with Alcor's circle on it, the one he used to call him with in the early days of their friendship, Richard wiggled his hand down to his pocket, keeping himself impassive as his fingers touched cloth.

 

There was a mint in the same pocket, and Richard hoped this would work as he unwrapped it blind and pressed the candy to the circle, silently calling for help.

 

Because the cultists were beginning to turn back to him and Richard didn't like the look of the things most of them were holding. He was pretty sure knives and fire had no place in cleansing a person, despite his relative lack of knowledge in that area.

 

As if they had heard Richard's silent call, shadows began to slide away from the edges of the room, beginning to coalescence in the center.

 

“Now isn't the time to be showy!” Richard hissed, and the shadows paused, drawing back as if offended, if a mass of shadow could be offended.

 

The shadows dropped back to the floor like a drop of oil, glistening like liquid, the puddle rippling.

 

Then it reared up again into the shape of a person, dropping away to reveal Alcor in its place.

 

The two holding Richard down cried out in shock, and the woman who seemed to be in charge moved. She grabbed a deep bowl one of her followers, who had shrunk back from the demon, had been holding, and flung its contents over them, demon, actor, and cultists all.

 

Alcor screamed, falling back, clawed hands covering his face. Richard swore, the sound lost in the static of a demonic scream, managing to rise to his feet now that the two holding him down had staggered away from the demon.

 

Vaguely Richard could hear the woman who had first approached him screaming victoriously about demons and cursed movies and needing to be cleansed as he staggered towards Alcor.

 

The demon dashed the last of the apparently holy water from his face, snarling with rage. Reaching out, he snagged Richard's arm, and the whole room went blurry.

 

Richard landed with a thump on the floor of Crystal's apartment, where he was supposed to meet Crystal and Pacifica, and both women stared at he and the demon in shock on Crystal's part and faint surprise on Pacifica's.

 

“Take care of him,” Alcor snarled. “I'll be back soon.”

 

He disappeared, and Pacifica looked down at Richard sympathetically. “Waht was it? Crazed fans? Cult? Either way, congratulations on the initiation into the 'Alcor-induced Trauma Club'.”

 

 

It took Richard some time to stop being jumpy after the 'cleansing' incident. There was an investigation, but it was conducted primarily by Alcor, as there wasn't any proof of what had happened, and the police weren't much help – especially when it came to light that Alcor had been summoned during the incident and was the reason Richard got away.

 

But in the end, everyone decided that the whole thing had been because of the movie, not the demon. Richard, for his part, just wanted the whole thing kept quiet so no one else would get any ideas – whether it be to try another cleansing or to think Alcor was protecting Richard out of enjoyment of his work so far (namely, the Twin Souls movie).

 

Pacifica was more of a help than she would admit during the whole thing. Of course, part of that was understanding what Richard had been through, but a good deal of it was in her non-nonsense friendship, helping Richard get back into his regular life, if only to spite anyone who expected him to change because of it.

 

Pacifica was good at classy spite.

 

 

“Whhhhhy,” Richard moaned, face first over the coffee table, arms dangling off the side. “Why did you dooo thaaaaaat?”

 

Pacifica took another sip of her coffee, watching the show before her with a great deal of amusement.

 

Richard looked up at her with a pout. “Don't you have an answer for me? Anything to say for yourself?”

 

“If that dork's reaction is anything like yours, than funding the sequel will be money well spent,” Pacifica said dryly. “I certainly made a tidy profit on the last one.”

 

“I thought we were friends,” Richard whined, flopping back over the table.

 

“Which is why I'm letting you whine about it,” she replied. “You can negotiate for better security, and you'll be set for life from this series.”

 

“Twin Souls is not the thing I wanted my name remembered for,” Richard moaned. “You are the _worst_.”

 

Pacifica smiled serenely. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is Pacifica's name so hard to spell? I keep finding misspellings...


	110. Never Immune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HC: Somebody makes an Alcor horror game, and Dipper decides to see what its like for shits and giggles. He screams when the fictional recreation of himself jumpscares him.
> 
> In fairness, the fictional recreation was absolutely horrifying in its design, and the jumpscare did manage to take him by surprise and anybody can be startled and it doesn’t mean he was actually scared - or so he argues.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/140623236203/hc-somebody-makes-an-alcor-horror-game-and

 

Of the triplets, Hank was the most into video games. It was the challenge of them that called to him. Generally, he preferred the puzzle games, the games that required concentration and could be as quiet as his jigsaw puzzles, but he could ignore the violence, should a game with it catch his attention. He'd already seen too much, with his cult bashing mom and demonic uncle, to let obviously fake blood bother him.

 

His sisters enjoyed playing them against him too, and Uncle Dipper could be just as much of a geek about it as he could other things.

 

This newest game wasn't one that was to the usual taste of anyone in the family, but after reading the description online, Hank had to buy it.

 

It wasn't everyday someone dared to make a game whose big boss, everyone agreed, was an obvious expy of The Dreambender, despite the game creator’s denials.

 

With that sort of enticement, how could any of the triplets resist?

 

 

It was a decent horror game, all told. Good atmosphere, unsettling music, brief hinted flashes of the 'demon' at the center of it all – little things, like eyes watching from the darkness that disappeared when you turned the camera to look at them straight on, black shadows whipping past the edge of the camera, tiny growls that seemed part of the soundtrack at first but were too dissonant, too close, to dismiss.

 

The fact that the trio were playing it at night when they had the house, the old, old, house that made noises as it settled and was full of demon-touched, if familiar, items didn't hurt either.

 

But the best part of it all was at the end, when 'Alcor'...oh, pardon, not 'Alcor', not 'The Dream Bender' but 'The Nightmare Warper', finally appeared.

 

With a screech that shattered the quiet, almost peaceful music that had been playing, a surprise rush of teeth and claws and too many eyes and limbs at the screen, a jump scare that caught all three triplets by surprise.

 

Once breaths had been caught and heart rates began to slow back to normal, nervous and surprised laughter under control, three evil grins were shared. They had to show their parents...no, they had to show Uncle Dipper this!

 

 

“...to shoot,” Hank finished explaining the controls, leaning over his uncle where they were all sprawled on the floor of the living room, working through the game's tutorial level. “Think you can handle it?”

 

Dipper scoffed. “It's a video game based on me,” he said, and all three could hear the pride lurking in his voice, mixed with a little pain, both from the same source – the was feared and known enough to inspire something (other than Twin Souls). “And I'm a demon. I think I can handle it.”

 

“Get 'im good, kids!” their mom's voice called out from the kitchen, where she had moved her current craft project, citing a need for a large, flat surface – the kitchen table, in this case.

 

The triplets, one and all, suspected it was half so she could watch the fun. They hadn't told her what was coming, but their mom was frighteningly good at sniffing out mischief.

 

Dipper stuck his tongue out in the direction of the kitchen before turning his attention back into the game.

 

 

As the kids had predicted, their uncle's laser focus (that their mother claimed had only been sharped by his transformation) soon had him utterly absorbed in the game. His forked tongue stuck the tiniest bit out of the corner of his mouth, golden eyes intent as a cat stalking prey as he squirmed and twisted, as if his character would move along with him.

 

It was a good thing for the triplets that he was so engaged, or he may have picked up on their anticipation ahead of time and ruined the surprise.

 

The unholy screech Dipper let out when he counterpart roared into life on the screen, complete with controller flying into the air as he toppled backwards and blipped behind the couch, was well worth the wait.

 

And G-grunkle Stan's “SHOW ME THE OBJECT OF MOCKERY!” as he came barreling in from the other room as Uncle Dipper began to protest that he was   
just _surprised_ darn it stop laughing” was the cherry on top.

 

Utterly worth having to cajole their uncle into replacing all the light bulbs he'd shattered in his surprise, in the triplet's opinion.


	111. Demons Against Child Abuse Pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wish I remembered who gave me this prompt, but here it is:  
> Just want to say I love what you've done with the Trancendance AU, hope you keep adding onto this collection for a long time
> 
> Prompt Idea: A young girl (think 13) is badly assaulted by a presumed stranger/possible family member. They have a suspect locked up but no solid proof. The only way to find the real criminal is for her to give a statement but she's so traumatized that she can't talk.
> 
> In a desperate move her psychologist summons Dreambender, remembering he is friendly towards children, in hopes he can help her overcome the trauma and finally find peace.

 

No one was quite sure what had happened to Naomi Caligor.

 

There was a pretty good idea – she'd only stopped talking, not communicating altogether, though she had shut down pretty hard – but without their key witness, it was going to be a lot harder to put the person responsible away for it, despite the fact that Naomi had pointed him out very emphatically. They needed her testimony, or it was all going to fall apart.

 

Dr. Aisha Yesson knew that was the reason everyone was putting pressure on her to get Naomi talking again, but she didn't agree with it.

 

Her job was to help Naomi heal. And pressuring her to talk, to identify who hurt her before she was ready, wasn't going to help.

 

Under normal circumstances, she would have taken Naomi out for rides. The usual centaur rules against being ridden had exceptions for loved ones and children, and it almost always helped to get Aisha's clients, all of whom were children, more comfortable with her after a trot through the wooded trails that backed her office, trails kept safe with wards and spellguards so the children could talk as freely there as they did in her office.

 

But the fact of the matter was, that the child didn't feel safe anywhere anymore. It didn't matter how many wards, how many spells, walls, locks, there were between Naomi and the rest of the world; she was still convinced her tormentors could find their way in through anything.

 

Given all that had happened, Aisha couldn't blame her.

 

It wasn't easy to understand Naomi when she tried to communicate – Naomi had been, before all of this, a sparkling, active child, or so Aisha was told, but now she was quiet, and she jumped at too-quick movements, and Aisha knew she hadn't found all Naomi's new triggers yet – and her communication was slow, when she could be persuaded to try.

 

At least Naomi finally trusted Aisha. It hadn't been an easy road, and Aisha had bent quite a few rules – she really shouldn't have let Naomi comb and braid her tail, or lean up against her horse half while they both sat on the floor, but it had been worth it to see how Naomi's face had lit up, no matter how briefly. It had helped that Naomi was (or would be, if all this weren't happening) deep into a horse crazy phase, and despite knowing she shouldn't take too much pride in her physical appearance, Aisha knew that her horse half, that of a sleek and dark brown Arabian, was almost irresistible to a little girl who took so much joy in horses and fussing over hair and coats and combs.

 

It was one of the few times Naomi seemed to resemble the child she was, so Aisha was willing to allow it.

 

If only there was a way to help Naomi feel safe again...but so long as her tormenter still walked free (on bail, and watched, but it was still far too free) and had supporters, that didn't seem likely. Sessions with Aisha were only going to do so much while that fact remained, and all the therapy she provided, both orthodox and not, weren't going to help Naomi recover while the child knew damn well it wasn't over yet.

 

After the third time Naomi and her family had been kept up all night by people driving by their home, yelling threats and keeping all of them awake and in fear but with the police unable to do anything, too slow to respond to do any good even if they had, Aisha knew she had to do something drastic, even if she was 'just' the therapist.

 

But what?

 

Legal means weren't working, and the waste of carbon that had assaulted a thirteen year old didn't respect any authority, only power and things bigger and badder than he was, and there weren't many things he'd admit fell into that category if Aisha's estimation of him was right, but they had to make Naomi feel safe.

 

Aisha couldn't say anything about her job or Naomi to anyone, of course, but she could vent a little to a trusted friend.

 

“I just wish I could find her a bodyguard,” she said, gazing into her coffee as if it held all the answers. “I can't say more than that, but I just...like...do you remember there were bikers who protected kids? Something like that. I wish there was someone I could call on to help this child. Someone bigger and badder than the people she's afraid of.”

 

Her friend looked on the edge of speaking, stirring their tea, glancing around nervously, even through they were in Aisha's kitchen, away from any eavesdroppers.

 

Rose hesitated a few more times before she finally sighed, reaching for her purse. “Look, I could get in a lot of trouble if anybody finds out about this, so keep it quiet, okay?” she said.

 

Aisha snorted, toying with the edge of her headscarf. “I just came perilously close to revealing more than I should about a patient, I think we're even.”

 

“No, seriously,” Rose said, digging into her purse for a pencil and paper. “You know I have...odd taste in religion, right?”

 

“Yeah, but I never asked questions,” Aisha answered, confused. “It's your business, not mine.”

 

Rose snorted. “Wish more people thought that way...well...I'm part of the Circle of the Dreamer's Star. Ever hear of them?”

 

Aisha's eyes went wide for a moment before she recovered. “I...yeah, but why...?”

 

Rose sighed. “Well, our Lord is...he's fond of children. Not like that! Like, actually cares about them. The rumors about how he takes care of children are all true. It's possible...I haven't made any deals with Him, but you could, to help your patient. He's broken up human trafficking rings before, and saved kids from all kinds of bad situations. Watches over them and...well, protects them. I...could help you figure out a proper deal to make. And if you use our circle, then He should be calmer when He comes. He's having a good period right now, where He listens and isn't...well, isn't as demonic as one would expect.”

 

“I'll...I'll have to think about it,” Aisha said frankly. “But...thank you. Offering that must have been difficult. Just...let me think about it.”

 

 

Two days later, and Aisha was borrowing Rose's computer to actually look deeper into it.

 

She didn't quite dare look up the demon on her own internet or computer, for fear of someone tracking down people who looked up information on the Dreambender and coming after her license.

 

Aisha recognized that she was being a tad paranoid, but when you dealt with children who'd been abused and whose abusers would do anything, felt entitled to do whatever it took to get them back, then you did end up paranoid and it usually paid off.

 

There was a reason her house and office both had so much security, both mundane and magic, after all.

 

Still...Aisha was glad she hadn't eaten before starting her research, as quite a bit of it was putting her off the idea of food.

 

Mostly, she was thankful she'd gone full vegetarian a few years ago, as just the thought of meat was sickening right now.

 

But Rose had been right...there was that one thread throughout all the articles that mentioned children, all the eyewitness accounts, all the stories. Sometimes incredulous, sometimes victorious, sometimes matter of fact, they all repeated the same thing:  _ Alcor refused to harm the children. Alcor protected the children. Alcor has never willingly harmed a child or seen one come to harm if he could prevent it. _

 

It was...well, it was reassuring, a possibility that Rose could be right, that this might work, if they could find something to offer the demon in exchange for his protection.

 

And, of course, if they could get Naomi and her family to agree. That part might be more difficult than getting the demon to agree to this plan, if Rose was to be believed.

 

First things first. Aisha looked up at her friend, taking a deep breath. “You're sure you can summon Alcor and he won't be furious right away? He'll hear us out?” she asked

 

Rose nodded, the tired nod of someone who has explained something five times already but expects to explain it five times more. “He'll recognize the circle,” she said. “And the chant. Do you have any ideas for what to offer Him?”

 

“Well...I'd hoped maybe weekly offerings of food might work?” Aisha said dubiously. “For now, at least.”

 

“I have heard our Lord is fond of ice cream,” Rose said, adjusting the felt rose headband she always wore that held back her curls. “We usually sacrifice candy and snacks to Him. It's considered polite to share your favorites. Regular food might work as well, though.”

 

“The demon likes ice cream,” Aisha repeated blankly. “Right. Why not. I guess I'm going to go buy some ice cream. Can you set up while I do? Because I guess we're doing this.”

 

“Get some Fruit Drops while you're at it,” Rose replied. “The blackberry vanilla ones. They're my favorite, so I usually sacrifice them. I hope you realize I'm breaking all kinds of rules here. We're not supposed to bother our Lord without good reason, or summon him by ourselves.”

 

“Well, this is a damn good reason,” Aisha muttered, trotting out of the house quickly.

 

 

It took Aisha three trips to bring all the ice cream into the house, even with the insulated bags Rose teasingly referred to as her 'saddlebags'.

 

“You do realize one carton probably would have been enough for negotiations, right?” Rose asked, torn between amusement and disbelief.

 

Aisha shrugged, stretching out her human back as she sat down the last of the ice cream. Her car may have been modified for her to drive, but it still wasn't the most comfortable thing to use. “Look, I get you know more about Alcor than I do, but I'm not risking him saying no just because I got the wrong flavor of ice cream,” she said tartly. “Or because he was insulted I didn't get enough. This is tricky enough as it is.”

 

“Plus, it was on sale,” she added after a moment.

 

Rose stared at her blankly for a few moments as Aisha fussed with the ice cream, getting it all lined up neatly.

 

“I'm on a budget, okay?” Aisha snapped. “They don't exactly pay me the big bucks.”

 

“...demonology on a dime,” Rose giggled, and Aisha glanced up. They were only able to hold eye contact for a second before they both began giggling hysterically.

 

“Okay, yeah. Nerves. Think we can still do this?” Aisha asked after she'd recovered, rubbing at her forehead, her back hoof pawing gently at the ground.

 

“I'm sure of it,” Rose said. “Let's do this. Come on, there's a big freezer in the basement we can put all this ice cream in, by where we'll do the summoning – I'll help you carry it.”

 

 

Aisha stood back as Rose laid out a circle in the basement – a fully finished basement, well lit and with a pretty alter in the center of one wall – and lit the candles.

 

She waited quietly as Rose chanted, huddling against herself when the temperature of the room suddenly dropped.

 

When the swirl of black smoke appeared in the center of the circle, it took thinking hard about Naomi, the black circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, the haunted, frightened look that always seemed to hover in her eyes whenever they spoke, to keep Aisha there and not galloping from the basement.

 

Aisha did her best to ride out the wave of terror that rushed over her as the demon appeared, to set it aside and think rationally.

 

To distract herself, she took stock of the demon her friend worshiped. Surprisingly human-like, and a young one at that, though she hoped Naomi wouldn't be put off by the fact that he presented as male. The eyes, wings, and pointed ears might help with that, even as Aisha was vaguely surprised at herself for the worry. This was a demon, how he presented didn't matter unless he frightened Naomi.

 

Aisha waited as Alcor heard her friend out, surprisingly patient and attentive. He glanced over at Aisha a few times during the quick explanation, sitting back in midair as Aisha stepped forward at her cue.

 

“So, you've something to ask of me regarding a child?” Alcor asked after a few moments of staring at each other in silence.

 

Aisha took a deep breath and nodded. “Her name is Naomi,” she said, “And I want to make a deal with you to watch over her.”

 

Alcor smirked, and though it was not completely unkind, it still held a hard edge of mockery. “Do you have any idea how many people have tried to get me to do just that? Well, admittedly, most of them were powerful and they tried to enslave me into doing it, but still.”

 

“I want to make a deal for it,” Aisha said. “I didn't come unprepared. It's just...she's afraid. All the time. The people who hurt her aren't behind bars yet, and she has to testify to put them away, but she's too traumatized to speak. And they won't leave her alone. She needs someone more powerful on her side that she can trust.”

 

“And you called on a demon,” Alcor mocked, but his eyes weren't focused on her, looking out into the distance instead.

 

“You're supposed to protect children,” Aisha snapped, something about the demon's flippant attitude getting under her skin, hoof clicking sharply against the floor. “She needs protection and I can't find anyone who will! They keep brushing us both off and she hasn't slept in a week and no one will help us!”

 

“I didn't say I wouldn't help,” Alcor said mildly.

 

Aisha sputtered to a stop, looking up at Alcor in shock. For his part, the demon was examining his claws, seemingly indifferent, but there was a tenseness to his posture that belied that facade, his wings twitching even as the rest of him remained still.

 

“First rule of dealing with demons,” the demon said shortly. “Assume nothing. Now then. Let's make a proper deal, and you can tell me the rest.”

 

Aisha blinked a few times, having not really expected the demon to go along with this and still expecting some kind of trick.

 

But...Rose worshiped this demon. Literally. If for that alone, Aisha was going to trust it...for the moment.

 

 

The deal for right now was simple – Alcor got to pick a carton of ice cream from the supply Aisha had bought, and he'd stay and hear them out in return, to negotiate the whys and hows and boundaries and payments.

 

Negotiating and talking this out was going to take longer than the summons gave him, apparently.

 

Alcor summoned up a golden spoon and sat back in mid air, munching his ice cream directly from the carton as Aisha laid out what she wanted and why Naomi needed this.

 

She had notes and charts. If she was going to do something, then Aisha was going to do it right, thank you.

 

“And you've cleared this with her parents?” Alcor asked after Aisha had finished, gesturing with his spoon. “I mean, I'm willing, but I'd rather not have to deal with terrifying the kid and her parents more, know what I mean?”

 

Aisha paused before speaking. “You're...nothing like what I expected,” she said. “But not yet, I didn't want to tell them I was getting Naomi a protector unless I was for certain. And, of course, there was the chance of this going horribly wrong, as there always is with demons.”

 

Alcor hummed noncommittally as he sat back in the air, tapping the spoon against his almost empty ice cream. “So why do you want me to protect her? Why not just let me go after him and cut out the middle man?”

 

“He deserves to have to live with what he's done and rot in jail,” Aisha said firmly. “Or at least have everyone know what a repulsive piece of slime he is.”

 

Alcor paused, looking her over before a grin began to stretch his mouth.

 

Aisha continued to rant, unnoticing the demon's sudden interest, her tail lashing her flanks as she ranted. “Naomi is going to need to know she's safe even after that bastard is put away or dead! This kind of thing takes years to recover from, but they'll pull funding for her therapy quick as they can once the trial's over or she starts speaking on a regular basis again, she needs someone she can trust! And even if...”

 

“I'll do it,” Alcor said suddenly, making Aisha stammer to a halt for a second time. His spoon and the nearly empty carton disappeared as Alcor leaned forward until he was eye level with Aisha, his grin softening. “You've convinced me. I'll do it. Let's talk the rest of the terms and details.”

 

 

To say Naomi's parents, Blythe and Maurice, were skeptical when Aisha brought the whole thing up was an understatement. But at the same time, they were desperate.

 

There had been more people during the night, they told her. People driving up and down the street, blatantly watching the house and yelling abuse out of their windows.

 

A few of them even came up to the door and banged on it, refusing to leave for hours, demanding Blythe and Maurice hand Naomi over to them.

 

They had called the police, of course, but by the time the cops got there, everyone had fled...and apart from the ones who'd come up to the door, the attackers been on public property, so there wasn't much the police could do.

 

A few meals a week and letting a demon into their home – one that was giving his word, for what that was worth (Alcor twisted deals with the best of them, but he was recorded as doing what he said he would, for keeping his word, and he had been very specific in his promise) to protect Naomi, to behave, to help and not to harm – seemed a fair price for relief from the nightmare they were trapped in.

 

 

Upstairs, Dipper materialized in the hallway outside Naomi's room without fanfare. He paused, a pointed ear twitching as he listened for her parent's consent – he planned on watching over this child, permission or not, but it would make things easier – before he knocked on her door.

 

From inside, he heard a soft sniffle, followed by the door opening a crack.

 

Dipper didn't bother with the door, which was only going to last another hundred years or so anyway, instead shimmering into existence in the room beyond.

 

The girl who had returned to the bed inside hadn't noticed him yet, still focused on settling back into her former position, curled up against the wall, so he took the moment to glance around the room. Soft lavender paint on the walls with sparkling white trim, white painted bed, dresser, nightstand, and desk, the tops of which were cluttered with the detritus of a cheerful, happy child, though most of it was dusty and neglected at this point.

 

There were fairy lights strung around and through the headboard and a few mobiles hanging from the ceiling, and dark pink curtains framed the window, while posters of various movies dotted the walls.

 

It was a bright, cheerfully happy room, clouded with oppressive sadness evident only to someone like Dipper, who could see the fear tainting everything within.

 

It was difficult not to react to that in some way.

 

The girl, Naomi, hadn't noticed Dipper yet, but she was starting to look up, surprise coloring her aura when the door remained closed.

 

Then she caught sight of Dipper out of the corner of her eye and jumped, scooting back in a panic to press against the corner of the room, watching him with wide eyes, pale and trembling.

 

Dipper bowed and smiled, careful to keep his mouth closed over his fangs. He was also careful to stay on the other side of the room, leaving Naomi lots of space.

 

“Hello, Naomi,” he said softly. “My name is Alcor. Dr. Yesson brought me here, to help keep you safe.”

 

Naomi didn't speak, her eyes flickering between Dipper and the door, and he remembered abruptly that Aisha had mentioned that Naomi rarely spoke now.

 

“She's downstairs,” he continued after a pause. “Talking to your parents. They should be calling for you soon. I wanted to introduce myself a little early. Is this form okay? I can be another shape if it bothers you. Like a cat, maybe?”

 

Naomi shook her head, and Dipper watched her colors, reading her emotions the best he could. “This form is okay, for now?” he asked to clarify. “Okay. But if it starts to bother you, let me know. Changing shape is easy. And don't worry, you don't have to speak if you're not ready.”

 

His eyes darted around the room, calculating, before he pointed at the small music box on Naomi's nightstand. “Make you a deal – I'll make it so you can think at me rather than talking and I'll hear what you want to tell me, in exchange for that music box. What do you think?”

 

Naomi considered it for a moment before she nodded.

 

“Okay. I'm going to reach for it now, okay? Usually I'd need a handshake or something similar to seal the deal, but...”

 

Naomi held up a hand, shakily, and Dipper smiled. He raised a loose fist and offered it. “Fistbump?”

 

Naomi had the faintest hint of a smile as she lightly tapped her fist against Dipper's, eyes going wide at the flash of blue fire the touch produced.

 

Dipper left a necklace with a star pendant in the music box's place. “If you decide you want to have me protect you, then you can contact me whenever you want with this necklace. And I'll always be able to watch over you while you're wearing it, even if I'm not there physically.”

 

Naomi reached out hesitantly to pick up the necklace, fingering the star gently.

 

“You don't have to put it on yet,” Dipper said softly. “I think your parents are ready to meet me. Ready to go downstairs?”

 

Naomi continued to stare at the star necklace, tracing over the pendant, for an uncomfortable stretch of time before she made up her mind.

 

She fastened the necklace around her throat quickly before sliding off the bed, reaching shyly for Dipper's hand and dragging him after her down the stairs like an overlarge and surprised balloon.

 

It seemed Naomi was more ready for a protector – any protector – than they'd thought.


	112. Demons Against Child Abuse Pt 2

For all Dipper had been verified by Dr. Yesson, had gotten her approval, had had Naomi accept the necklace with his symbol on it, he still wasn't sure if she would actually call on him when she needed him, and was still a bit surprised at how quickly Naomi had latched onto him as a protector.

 

He was...very aware, sometimes, of his reputation outside Gravity Falls. Time didn't help it any, either. He dare not let people know much about the good times, and word of the bad times spread quickly.

 

Dipper was in a period where he didn't have a reincarnation of a loved one to look after, as the few currently incarnated had loving homes, and he took advantage of that to keep an eye on Naomi from the Mindscape. Naomi was taking her classes at home for now, through her tablet, and was afraid to leave her home, so he didn't have to worry about someone at school or out and about spotting him even as he worried about how much time she spent trapped in a home turned prison.

 

That part...he may have been a bit out of touch, but he did remember how much time he and Mabel had spent outdoors. Maybe Naomi wasn't a fan of hanging around outside, or going out, but being too afraid to leave...even he knew that was very, very bad.

 

But was it just what had happened that kept Naomi trapped inside, or was it the harassment Aisha had mentioned? Or both?

 

Well, Dipper couldn't change the past, but if he focused, with his omniscience, he could see it.

 

...somehow, he had a feeling he was going to regret this.

 

 

He did. A small corner of his Fields was going to be recovering from his anger for some time, but better it did than the Flock or Naomi, after he found out details he hadn't wanted to know about what had happened and what was happening. Of course, his first instinct was to go after the one responsible, but Aisha had specifically asked he waited until after the trial, should it not go well, for that, so...

 

After that, he started watching Naomi and her family closer than before. A few Nightmares rounded out the watch schedule when he was called off on a summons, and though they didn't need it (since they would do as their Master asked, and willingly) he brought back treats and bribes for those who took watch duty.

 

 

Dipper intended to wait until Naomi called for him, really he did. Forcing himself into her space wasn't going to help anybody, just make her feel even worse, and make sure she wouldn't trust him, if he remembered anything about being human.

 

But when he felt her having a nightmare...well. Aisha's deal – and the one he'd made with Naomi's parents, to take some of the heat off Aisha – covered nightmares and helping with them, and they'd talked about it Naomi, so popping in to eat it wasn't violating her boundaries.

 

He still wasn't prepared for Naomi to blink awake while he was finishing off her nightmare, blinking up at him sleepily as he wiped the last of it from his mouth.

 

They both froze, and Dipper swallowed at the fear that immediately colored Naomi's aura. “You...you were having a nightmare,” he said quietly. “I'm a dream demon. I eat nightmares. So. Yeah. Do you want me to go?”

 

Naomi blinked at him a few more times before she slowly shook her head, sitting up in bed and rubbing at her eyes, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

 

“Have trouble sleeping after a nightmare?” Dipper asked sympathetically, crossing his legs in midair. His dangling coat tails seemed to amuse Naomi, so he twitched his wings a few extra times to make them dance.

 

She made a few motions, the thoughts she sent to Dipper a jumble, as she clutched the necklace of his symbol she still wore, confusing the signs she was trying to make.

 

“How'd I know you were having a nightmare?” Dipper translated. She nodded, and Dipper smiled, half sheepish. “I...well, the deal _was_ for me to watch over you.”

 

_How long...?_ Naomi thought at him, clearer now as she woke up if still a bit unsure, as they hadn't practiced communicating much yet, her hands forming the signs as she thought the words, and Dipper shrugged.

 

“I may or may not have been hanging out in the Mindscape around your house,” Dipper said, trying to be casual. “Not really watching, but keeping an eye out for you and your family.”

 

_Creepy_ Naomi thought back, curling up more on the bed, though a hint of a smile teased the corners of her mouth, as though she liked the idea of someone watching out for them.

 

“Allow me to remind you that I am a demon,” Dipper said haughtily, nose in the air and hands on hips. “Creepy is part of the job.”

 

Naomi stuck out her tongue at him, and Dipper grinned, holding up both hands. “Oh, you wanna go, huh? Here comes the tickle demon!”

 

Naomi squealed with laughter as Dipper tickled her sides before she suddenly froze. ' _No, stop!_ ' she cried out silently, and Dipper was on the other side of the room in a flash, hands up where she could see them, watching anxiously as Naomi gathered herself.

 

' _I..._ ' she paused, at a loss, though her colors were apologetic, a mess of guilt and pain and surprise and Dipper floated down to her eye level, though he kept himself across the room, giving her space.

 

“Hey, it's okay,” he said softly. “You can say no, yanno? You get to choose that. And everbody's supposed to listen. I may be a demon, but I'm still gonna listen. Unlike some people.”

 

Naomi looked at her pajama clad knees and shook her head, silently, tears threatening to spill. “He was wrong,” Dipper said, and she glanced up at the anger in his voice, freezing again. He sighed, shaking his head. “You're not ready for my ranting,” he said, hair smoothing and ears slowly returning to their proper position from poofing like an angry cat's fur and laying flat to his head in anger. “I'm not angry at you, I'm angry at _him._ Pretty sad, though, isn't it? When the demon manages to remember consent stuff better than the human.”

 

Dipper took another deep breath as Naomi relaxed. “You should probably try to go back to sleep,” Dipper said. Naomi glanced up at him and back to her bed, crumpling the sheets between her fingers.

 

_'...stay?'_ she asked silently. Dipper was the one to blink in surprise this time before he smiled soothingly, careful not to show his teeth. A small motion had his violin appear in a swirl of black smoke, and he began to play a lullaby.

 

Naomi smiled, sweet and sleepy, and settled back down, falling into the first dreamless sleep she'd had in months.

 

 

Alcor was still there when Naomi woke the next morning, refreshed and ready for the day, a feeling she hadn't had since this whole nightmare had begun.

 

The demon was floating in the corner of the room, his violin in his lap, hands folded over it and eyes closed, head tilted forward as though he slept, though Dr. Yesson had said Alcor didn't need to sleep.

 

As if he felt Naomi watching him, Alcor cracked open his eyes, smiling. “Good morning,” he greeted casually. “Meet you downstairs for breakfast?”

 

Naomi's smile was brighter than the sunlight.

 

 

Breakfast was...a little awkward, but it was also the first time in months that Naomi had been so animated, so her parents were willing to accept the demon at the table (especially as he seemed to be doing his best to remember his manners this morning).

 

They were 'paying' him in food, yes, but this was the first meal he'd sat down and eaten with them, rather than eating his share whenever he had the time.

 

It was a little awkward, a little stilted, but...it was still the best breakfast they'd had in months. (Even if the demon did eat twice as many pancakes as the other adults.)

 

 

From that moment on, Naomi and Alcor were together every day. He refused to go to her appointments with Aisha with her, as those were private, but Naomi had to just touch her pendant or mentally reach out to him for the demon to appear, and he spent much of the day floating around the Caligor house, playing with Naomi or listening to her of just hanging about.

 

To her parent's surprise, he was amazingly patient with her, and they were able to settle into a sort of routine with the demon fairly quickly and easily.

 

Though it did take them awhile to stop jumping when they turned and he was suddenly there, where a minute ago the room had been empty. They were still a little on guard with him, and surprised at how quickly Naomi trusted him, but...they were trying. And luckily, since they were holding up their end of the bargain, allowing him freely into their home and sharing food, Alcor didn't seem to hold their skittishness against them.

 

 

A week after Alcor had first appeared at the breakfast table, the entire family was woken at two in the morning.

 

A car roared by, the people inside already screaming. It tore a circle in the street and turned back and screeched to a halt in the street outside their home. Doors slammed as the riders poured out, leaving only the driver behind in the car.

 

The stormed up the pretty pathway that Naomi and her father had worked so hard on, deliberately trampling and grinding the flowers and crystals underfoot on their way to crowd around the door, pounding on it and screaming for the people inside to give Naomi up to them, for someone to get out here, threats and vileness pouring from them like poison.

 

Up in her room, Naomi curled into a tight ball, hidden in her closet, struggling not to cry, praying they wouldn't break in this time. She clutched the pendant Alcor had given her so tightly it threatened to break skin, and in one spot did, blood dampening the point of a wing. “Alcor, hurry,” she whispered, unaware the words had even managed to slip out of her throat.

 

Bright golden eyes blinked open in the darkness of her closet, and Naomi lunged forward to grab onto Alcor's coat. _Here, they're here, they're here_ she whispered over and over in her mind, thrown to her anchor, the only words she could form, a mantra she couldn't think beyond..

 

“I know,” Alcor whispered back. “I'm going to go take care of it. Here,” he said, and another set of eyes blinked open, something that was soft black wool and wings and eldrich was nudging its way under Naomi's arm. “This is Lolonja. She'll stay with you until I get back.”

 

Naomi nodded tearfully and clutched at the sheep. She didn't know exactly what it was, but she trusted Alcor- who listened, who respected her 'no', who was there for her – and if he trusted this Lolonja, then she would too.

 

Alcor hesitated for a split second before he pulled off his coat, wrapping it around Naomi's trembling form. It was heavy and thick and soft and warm, warm from the body that had been wearing it, and Naomi freed a hand to clutch the edge as the sheep nuzzled against her forehead.

 

Alcor pressed a kiss to her hair and disappeared.

 

Outside, the shouting for Naomi and her parents changed to screaming. She clung closer to the sheep and buried her face in its wool. _It's okay. It's okay. Alcor isn't the one screaming. Alcor is the reason other people scream,_ Noami repeated to herself. As if it heard and understood, the nightmare baaed softly.

 

 

Dipper blipped downstairs, looking out at the people threatening _his_ new family, _his_ people, people under _his_ protection, through the door.

 

Unseen by their tormentors, Naomi's parents were in the living room, calling the police. He met their eyes, filled with pain and fear, and nodded once.

 

Naomi's mother, Blythe, pointed silently to the mouthpiece of the phone, and Dipper nodded again, in understanding.

 

The cops weren't going to understand the rationale behind summoning the Dreambender to protect their child. Well, probably – sometimes humans surprised even Dipper, with all his experience.

 

But for now...they were going to be too slow. Dipper looked back outside and narrowed his eyes. A quick gesture had shadows gathering around the house, forcing the people outside away from the door with shouts of outrage as they were physically forced away from the house.

 

Another twist of his hand and a surge of power gave some of the Flock the strength to come onto the physical plane, and the shouts of outrage turned to screams as the nightmares reared and threatened, baring teeth and claws and wings. The screams turned and ran as the nightmares lunged.

 

Dipper cleared his throat as the last of the car doors slammed and the sound of squealing tires faded away. “You...may want to check the pictures your security camera got before you hand them over,” he said. “I think my nightmares stayed out of their sight, but...”

 

“Those bastards always stay out of its sights,” Naomi's dad, Maurice, grumbled as he retrieved the footage and skimmed through it. “Or it's always 'not clear enough' for the police.”

 

There were sirens outside, and all three paused. “And there they are, right on cue,” Maurice said sourly. “Too late to do anything useful. As usual.”

 

“I'll be back once they're gone,” Dipper promised, he and his nightmares already fading away.

 

 

The police were, as Maurice had predicted, sympathetic but of little help. They did take a copy of the security footage to try and see who they could identify, but they weren't hopeful.

 

Though on the other hand, they did say this was more for the trial – it fell under harassment by proxy and broke the restraining order. Well, considering what had happened tonight, more like shattered it into a million pieces if they could prove it was connected to everything else...and since they had recently upgraded to a camera that caught sound, that part just became easier to prove.

 

Though Dipper was going to have to do a little editing on that video later, just to make sure the nightmares weren't visible.

 

 

Alcor reappeared as soon as the police were gone, watching them go with an unreadable expression. “I'm going to check on Naomi again,” he said. “The nightmares will be back to watch the house tonight. I...have a feeling it'll make her feel better to have them visibly around tonight.”

 

“Naomi's not the only one,” Blythe said wearily. “Sometimes they've come back, two or three times in one night, after the police leave. I think we'll all feel better if you...if you stayed with Naomi tonight.”

 

Alcor nodded, then paused. He looked over the two for a moment. They were sitting on the couch, propping each other up, as exhausted in their own ways as their daughter, feeling helpless to stop this or help her.

 

After that moment of consideration, he held out his hand, two necklaces dangling from his outspread fingers, solid chains with a star pendant hanging from them. “Here,” he said. “These aren't as personalized as the one I gave Naomi, but I can still see through them, and you can call me with them. Hold it if you can, and think of me, or call my name, and I'll be able to come to you no matter what.”

 

Blythe smiled after both stared blankly for a moment, reaching out and accepting the necklaces. “Thank you,” she said softly, simply, though her eyes said she understood the gift they'd been given.

 

Alcor nodded once, eyes softening, before he disappeared.

 

 

Dipper appeared in Naomi's room, finding her still clutching the patient Lolonja and wrapped in his jacket, though they had emerged from the closet at some point.

 

Naomi staggered forward and threw her arms around the demon, burying her face in his chest and holding tight.

 

Dipper stroked her hair, holding her with the other arm. “It's okay,” he said quietly. “My Flock is going to patrol the rest of the night. Is it alright if I stay here tonight?”

 

Naomi nodded against him, clutching tighter as his wings wrapped around them. “It's going to be okay,” he promised. He rested his cheek against her hair, holding her a little tighter.

 

It would be okay. Dipper would make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this was going to be a three-parter, but it's starting to look like there may be more than that. Part 3's not done yet so there may be a little wait on that...


	113. Sick Day

Dipper sneezed, the motion accompanied by a puff of blue fire.

 

“It's not fair,” he whined as he dropped the remnants of the tissue into the ashtray Grunkle Stan had dug up for him. “I'm a creature of cosmic power, with no physical body. How come I'm sick?”

 

“It makes as much sense as anything else,” his sister muttered from her own bundle of blankets. She was on the recliner, so bundled only her face poked out, and had woken up that morning barely able to speak above a whisper. Her voice was coming back, but it was still hoarse and raspy.

 

Dipper was floating next to her, in a similar cocoon, though only the blankets were visible, as he was too tired to even attempt a physical form. He coughed, long and hard, the lights flickering in time.

 

“I'm serious,” he groaned when he finally stopped coughing. “I don't need to breathe, why do I keep coughing?”

 

Out in the kitchen they could hear Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford – home for one of his rare visits – arguing over Grunkle Stan tossing the soup can out for Gompers to eat.

 

Gompers had already grabbed the can and scarpered before someone could take it from him.

 

One of the few good things about being sick, Mabel reflected as her Grunkles came in carrying bowls of soup and mugs of tea, was how hard her Grunkles were trying to get along for her and Dipper.

 

Even if they had needed to snap Grunkle Ford out of interrogation mode once or twice.

 

Finding out how Dipper got sick could wait until after he got better. For now, being a demon hadn't made him any less of a big baby when he got sick.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah...guess who's spent the last week and a half sick as hell and barely able to focus, let alone type. They've got a milder version of whatever crud I've got. Hopefully I'll recover in time to finish more, longer fics for next week. :)


	114. Demons Against Child Abuse Pt 3

Naomi and her family were in a strange place, emotionally, after the latest attack. On the one hand, it was another blow against them, another thing to add to the every growing list of paranoia.

 

On the other...Alcor came through. He protected them, just as he'd said he would.

 

It was dangerous, to have a demon around the house – and not just for the obvious reasons. Despite everything, there were certain factions, certain people who, if they found out what, who, the Caligor family had turned to...

 

The least thing they might do was to try and take Naomi away. Cleansings and worse were the other options.

 

Then again...seeing as it was Alcor...well. Who knew. The same demon that killed cults and destroyed landmasses was also known for protecting children and, sometimes, if he was in the right mood, the helpless.

 

Aisha had promised she would find a way to smooth things over, so Naomi could have Alcor with her for the most important test so far – the trial.

 

None of them were sure if Naomi could get up there, into the stand, face her tormenter and his flying monkeys and point to them without backup.

 

But the complications of getting Alcor into the courtroom were many, starting with not frightening the jury and going upwards in difficulty from there.

 

Blythe and Maurice had a bad feeling that people suspected something was up, despite how discrete they were trying to be. Oh, not their neighbors – most of their neighbors were firmly on their side, if only because they were grateful that most of the drive-bys had stopped, grateful enough they weren't questioning how or why they had finally gotten a break too hard.

 

But there were a few around...a few who still blamed victims, no matter how young, some of whom were not quite neighbors but lived far too close, others who had been in those cars...who obviously wondered just what drove the attackers from the house.

 

“If anyone guesses,” Alcor declared, during their latest meeting of Aisha and parents and the one social worker who had been allowed in on the secret, who understood about doing whatever it took to protect a child, who had once been involved with Realize a Dream, “I showed up on my own. I've done that sort of thing before. I'm unpredictable like that. But if someone tries to come after you about this...you call me. Okay? You're my people now, and nobody messes with my people. Blythe and Maurice have my symbol, but if you call my name, I'll hear you and I'll come.”

 

Grateful he was willing to cover that much, they'd agreed...even if a few of them were a bit worried about just what he meant by 'my people'.

 

But it still didn't solve the problem of how to get him into the courtroom.

 

Demons weren't very welcome in courtrooms. There were times when people thought they would make good lawyers, and in some ways it almost made sense – people did make quite a few jokes about demons and lawyers and their resemblances – but despite those, well, lawyers weren't demons.

 

Demons were cheaper in the short run, but much more expensive in the long run, for one.

 

The best lawyer currently alive...for lack of a better word...was a vampire, so it wasn't the fact that demons were nonhuman that disqualified them. Mr. Slant had been alive for so long, he not only knew all the laws, but had helped write most of them, and could pass as human (though he no longer put forth much effort to do so).

 

Demons found the loopholes, sure...but the loopholes they found were in their favor, and it was the rare demon that would do what was right for their client. No, demons were concerned for themselves alone, and by and large made terrible lawyers.

 

There wasn't a law against it per say, but...by now...nearly every courtroom was warded against them, and you needed to warn people before you brought one in at the very least.

 

The demon in question didn't seem concerned.

 

“There isn't a ward that will keep me out for long,” he pointed out to Aisha when she brought it up, Naomi distracted for the moment. The thought that she couldn't take Alcor into court with her was causing her distress, and weakening the resolve that had been strengthened by knowing she had Alcor in her corner whenever she needed him. “And I'm...I'm me. If I randomly showed up to watch over Naomi, then what would stop me from following her where she needed me?”

 

“They still don't want to listen to her unless she speaks,” Aisha complained, tail switching. Her back hoof stomped, momentarily startled as she had forgotten the barrettes Naomi had braided into her tail until they smacked her flank. “Nevermind that there's all sorts of ways to communicate other than verbal, and Naomi is getting very good at sign language, everyone is still pressing for her to speak. It's ridiculous!”

 

She paused to take a deep breath, tugging on her headscarf. “At least she's talking a little, ever since you came. But if we can't get you in there...we both know she has to stop relying so heavily on you sooner or later, though I do hope you won't stop being her friend when that happens, but we also both know she's not near ready to face that...that...* _ahem_ * without you backing her up.”

 

“Alright,” Alcor said, watching Aisha pace. “A few options come to mind.”

 

“Well, I'm all ears, as the saying goes,” she countered, front hoof pawing the ground before she forced it to still. “Because I'm low on ideas at them moment.”

 

“One, I go in pretending to be Naomi's new therapy pet,” Alcor said.

 

Aisha frowned, interrupting. “Really? I'd think you'd consider that below your dignity, to have to play the part of an animal.”

 

Alcor grinned, far too many of this teeth on display, and set all of Aisha's instincts screaming before she could stop them, and only being half human and having been around the demon this long kept her from shying and bolting from that smile and those teeth.

 

“There are many things I've done that are technically below my dignity,” Alcor said calmly, the grin easing back into something more human, ears flickering with something like embarrassment at the slip. “I would rather not, but I will, if it's the best way to do this. I don't have the cultural taboo about being seen as an animal that you do. I'd rather put the fear of...well, of me into the people who are harassing Naomi, but...”

 

“But some would try more after knowing,” Aisha acknowledged. “Unless...”

 

She was silent for a minute, thinking her plan over, tail swishing as she picked apart her idea for problems while Alcor waited, surprisingly patient. “I'll have to talk to Naomi's parents,” Aisha finally declared.

 

Alcor paused, before suddenly slapping himself in the face. “You do realize we've overlooked the most obvious solution,” he said, sounding equal parts embarrassed, frustrated, and amused.

 

Aisha paused, looking over her shoulder at the demon, who gave her a lopsided grin. “People aren't supposed to talk about what happens in a courtroom, so officially, I can make sure it's off the record. But what's to keep us from making a deal so no one can talk about it besides the people who know I'll be there?”

 

A grimace passed over Aisha's face. “Let's...think about the wording of that one for a bit, but not discard it yet. We may need to use it before this is all over.”

 

 

Of course, court was going to have to wait yet. Naomi speaking wasn't the only thing the courts were waiting for, just one of the most important for her case.

 

Privately...and when speaking with Aisha...Dipper agreed with the therapist. With magic as abundant as it had been for the many, many, many years since the Transcendence, insisting upon the spoken word – or, in the case of those who had never been able to speak, written word – was ridiculous in this age of varied communication.

 

But law and courts were some of the last to change, the longest to stick to traditions, and so for now, they were going to have to play things their way. Dipper much rather would have gone after the man himself, but...everyone else wanted to see him traditionally punished, and for the child and his new friends' sake, he would play along.

 

But the man was getting years of nightmares after he was put away, at the very least.

 

In the meantime...Naomi was easy to love, and enjoyed being around Dipper, not just for the protection he provided. She was trying to speak again, but she would only manage a word or two at most before her voice would betray her and lock shut again. And the few words she was managing were few and far between, only managed when she felt safe, like she had before all of this began.

 

Aisha and Dipper and her parents all reassured Naomi over and over it was okay. She didn't have to speak. If she never spoke again, they'd find another way to put her attacker behind bars. Her best friend, her new brother (at least, as she thought of him, though she didn't quite dare 'tell' him yet) was a demon, if the law wouldn't protect her than he would.

 

Now that the drive-byes had ceased – there had been a few more attempts for Dipper to shut down before they got the hint (there were rumors over just what the Caligor family had protecting them, but no one was able to prove it, and in this day and age, in this place, it wasn't something you just went throwing about at will, and given that, despite laws against it, the general attitude of the moment about demons was 'if you are idiotic enough to summon it, at least make sure the only one it eats is you', most didn't care – of if they did, if they did believe the rumors, more than a few understood why a family might take such extreme measures) – Naomi and her parents were trying to leave the house more often.

 

Not that they were going out much. They weren't ready for that. But a little trip to the park, a walk down the street, just being out of the house...that they were ready to try.

 

And Naomi was even happier when her Alcor came with them. The first few trips to the empty park he came along as a huge black dog, though he toned down his eyes to a natural honey brown, a shade so light it was nearly gold. But under the onslaught of wide, pleading eyes, Alcor accompanied them the next time they went out as a human, brown of eye and rounded of ear, and if anyone questioned where the young man watching over Naomi came from they didn't ask.

 

It may have been more dangerous than the dog-form, and raised more questions the Caligors couldn't answer, but it made Naomi so happy at a time when she had so little to be happy about, even the demon couldn't say no to her.

 

Things were going well enough that, when the invitation came to go to the annual family picnic – a tradition the Caligors had not gone to last year, because of, well, everything – they decided to go...and RSVPed that they would be bringing a guest along, for Naomi's sake.

 

 

“You know, this would probably go over better if I were in dog form,” Alcor mentioned as the car pulled into the park from his spot in the backseat, human disguise in place and Naomi holding onto his hand in a death grip. “Easier to explain, for one.”

 

Maurice, in the front passenger seat, looked back over his shoulder at the demon and shrugged. Mentally, he still had to take a moment to remind himself that the young man in his backseat was a literal, actual demon, but Alcor's disguise was, for the moment, flawless – though it had taken quite awhile to talk him down from the still-too-formal polo and khakis that was apparently the demon's idea of casual wear.

 

Having Naomi present the t-shirt (printed to look like a tuxedo) to the demon helped.

 

“Maybe,” he agreed. “But Naomi wants you human.”

 

Alcor looked down at Naomi, who was still clutching his hand in nerves but smiling faintly, catching on to the teasing. “You couldn't go the easy route, could you, kid? I'm way scarier as a dog than a human, and therapy dogs? All over the place. Therapy people, not so much.”

 

Naomi giggled and squeezed Alcor's hand again, and he heard her 'say', shyly, _Cousin scared of dogs. Like you like this._

 

He sighed, though not unhappily. “That's what I figured,” he said.

 

“Oh no...” Blythe said softly from the driver's seat as the car shut down, and everyone else went on high alert.

 

“I was promised they wouldn't be here...” Maurice said, just as dismayed as his wife.

 

“What...” Alcor began, and Maurice was answering him before he could finish the question.

 

“Aunt Karen and her children. We've been no contact with them before all of this, and they sent us some...some pretty vile messages when it all went down. They can be pretty toxic. So how do we vote? Do we stay anyway and leave the minute they start, or do we leave now?”

 

They looked over at Blythe, who sighed. “I want to know who thought it would be a good idea to invite them,” she said. “Because we seriously do not need this.”

 

Naomi squeezed Alcor's hand, playing with his fingers as she thought. Finally she took a deep breath and let go to sign, her hand finding his again when she was done.

 

_I miss my other cousins. I'm tired of other people dictating my life. I'm...tired of being afraid._

 

“Okay then,” her dad said after a moment. “Game plan: you stick near Al. Stay away from Aunt Karen and her kids – they're adults so they'll probably leave you alone anyway. We're still no contact with them, and them getting to talk to us is what they want. They start anything, and we leave. It's a boundary we drew with them a long time ago, and those are the consequences to their actions we set up then. They want to see us, they have to behave.”

 

Naomi nodded, hair bouncing with the motion, and Alcor tossed them a lazy salute, though the gleam in his eyes was anything but lazy.

 

 

The picnic was going remarkably well. There was a bit off awkwardness around 'Al' at first, but he remained polite if standoffish and danced attendance on Naomi, acting more like an older brother than a friend or bodyguard.

 

Besides, he was entertaining the other kids now too, buried under a pile of them as Naomi watched proudly from her perch in the tree above them, giving the parents a bit of a break. That earned him some brownie points from the rest of the family, and more than a few amused smiles as they played, Al running about with at least one child hanging off of him at all times.

 

Well...most of the family.

 

Karen was sitting in her chair, obviously considering herself a queen upon her throne, though she more closely resembled a toad upon its log. Technically, she was a lovely woman to look upon, but attitudes shine through and make a physical appearance that should have been attractive into something unpleasant to look upon.

 

“I'm just saying,” she was saying to the people around her as she held court, obviously viewing herself as the matriarch and arbiter of what was Right for The Family, “It's just not right. A man? Interested in children? And a man as young as that one? It's not _natural_. A young man like that shouldn't be interested in children. The only ones that are...well, you know what they're like.”

 

“No, we don't know what they're like,” Maurice snapped, knowing he was supposed to be getting into the car but pissed and prodded into a response by her insinuations. “Why don't you tell us where everyone can hear just how your nasty mind works?”

 

Karen sniffed. “I'm just saying,” she repeated. “I told you how to handle all this back then, and we'd have none of this fuss if you'd simply listened. You should have come to family first, if you needed help, Maury dear. These things need to be kept in the family.”

 

“If they'd listened to you, then he'd still be hurting Naomi and probably more kids too,” Rafael, one of Naomi's nearly adult cousins, fired back. “You can't rug sweep this kind of thing, that only makes it worse. She's been incredibly brave this whole time.”

 

Al was visibly bristling but ostensibly ignoring Karen, packing up Naomi's things and starting to urge her towards the car, as per the earlier plan, though it was costing him a lot to not defend himself or Naomi, a fact made obvious though body language plainer than the sunlight bathing them all.

 

“What does that man know about family?” Karen snapped. “Men aren't meant to raise children. If you'd left her with one of us, maybe we could have fixed this foolishness about refusing to talk by now. It's simple stubbornness, that's all it is. You two may be willing to indulge her in this ridiculous facade, but I am not weak like you. A week with me would straighten her out. That man can never be family, he'll never help like family could.”

 

Al stiffened, taking a deep breath, and Naomi looked up at him in worry. He was staring straight ahead, frozen like a statue and faintly trembling.

 

There were a million things that had stolen Naomi's voice, a million things that kept her silent when she wanted so badly to speak, and all the therapy, all the help, wasn't enough yet to unlock her voice, and it wouldn't be for time yet.

 

And yet...and yet, for a moment, the chains were gone and no one was more surprised than Naomi when her voice rang out over the picnic.

 

“At least he's been there for us! You're never there for anybody but yourself! He's more family to me than you'll ever be! He's my big brother, and I love him!”

 

The entire park sat silently stunned at Naomi's outburst, and she stood blinking in shock before clapping hands to her mouth. She tried to speak again but her voice failed her, quailing in front of the stares all pointed in her directions.

 

Al dropped to his knees and pulled her into a tight hug and she buried her face against his shoulder, fighting back tears, as her parents grabbed the last of their things.

 

“Okay, that's enough for today,” Blythe said firmly. “Karen, you know very well why we won't be contacting you, and that goes for your family too. Everyone else, you know where we live. It might be nice to get a phone call we can answer for once. Might have been nice to have those before, too. We're leaving now. My _family_ is leaving now.”

 

Al picked Naomi up, not an easy task considering she was a bit old for that, and carried her over to the car silently as her parents, just as silently, finished packing and they all drove off.

 

 

The car was silent the whole way home, everyone just thinking over what had happened (or not wanting to break into the thoughts of those who were).

 

They pulled into the garage and closed the door quickly, having learned not to dawdle anymore. Still, they sat in the car for awhile after it had been shut down, still silent.

 

“Honey, we're so sorry...” Blythe began, only to be cut off by Naomi tapping the back of her seat.

 

 _I'm not,_ she signed. _I got to play for the first time in ages. It was like everything was normal, just for awhile._

 

Then she glanced up at the demon by her side and signed, _No,_ while a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

 

“I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about,” Alcor said haughtily, hand to chest and face to the air.

 

Naomi giggled. _No nightmares. Save it for...save it for him._

 

Alcor grinned back and ruffled her hair. “I make no promises.”

 

 

Later, as Dipper finished his round of the house and popped into Naomi's room to say goodnight, he paused before kissing her hair. “It wasn't necessary,” he whispered, “but thanks for sticking up for me anyway. Little sister.”

 

Naomi, half asleep, smiled. _Love you too,_ she thought, her mental voice slurred and at the edge of dreams. _Big brother._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really wasn't sure I was going to get this up this week. Still recovering, I'm afraid, though I'm slowly getting better. But that one bit of dialogue just wouldn't come out right!


	115. Two Front Teef

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I've read different origin fics, and I like the ones where Dipper's whole transformation isn't instant. Mostly because there's room for me to imagine Mabel making Dipper sing "All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth" on camera and then every year watching it on Christmas/in the holiday season. It becomes Pines Famliy Tradition (TM) and later a subject of confusion for demonologists. (WHY DID ALCOR THE BLOODY DREAMBENDER SUBMIT TO CHEESY HOLIDAY SONGS???)
> 
> Beautiful.
> 
> Less beautiful is Mabel keeping all of Dipper’s old teeth in a jar that she decorates.
> 
> She puts the triplet's teeth in there too dipper is... Concerned
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/144090286702/so-ive-read-different-origin-fics-and-i-like-the

 

“Mabel, thith ith thupid,” Dipper lisped, crossing his arms and sulking, ears tilted flat and downright pouting. The expression didn't sit well on a face with black on gold eyes and pointed ears, even if it was one that still held traces of baby fat, but Dipper did it anyway.

 

His teeth had tried to sharpen, but when that hit a snag – broad molars were not the teeth of a carnivore, and a new tactic had to be taken, to merge human with demon – they had begun to be replaced, falling out to be replaced by new, sharper fangs, a childhood nightmare come to life. His new molars were closer to human teeth than demon fangs, but they still weren't human teeth, too sharp to be human but too broad to be demon. The second set that was also beginning to push its way through didn't help matters any, and all the teething rings and frozen foods Anna Pines was buying in a futile effort to help her son were only going so far.

 

To add insult to injury, Dipper's front two teeth had gone together, leaving him lisping and sulking over the indignity.

 

A demon should not lisp every time they spoke, unless it was part of their overall persona! It was...it was undignified!

 

Mabel, on the other hand, was getting a great deal of amusement out of it all...though the colors Dipper was starting to be able to see around people, strongest around his sister, said that some of her amusement was forced, to lighten the mood, to make him feel better about it.

 

And maybe, if they both kept at it, kept playing at being amused and playing up the sulking, then it really would be an entertaining memory someday.

 

At the moment, Dipper was physical, a rarity ever since the Transcendence, a fact that was painful for both twins. Mabel had 'sacrificed' a bag of candy for this, and was cashing in on a bet, a silly little thing that she had won (because demon or not, Dipper always forget – never bet against the house or Mabel. They always won).

 

The unfulfilled bet sat in Dipper's stomach like a stone (and he...knew what that felt like now. He...may have gotten a bit curious the other day), and was almost enough on its own to draw him to the physical plane to finish his part, get the deal over with, even if it was embarrassing.

 

At the moment, he was wearing a green and red elf hat with the green tunic sweater Mabel had knitted for him, looking like the world's most disgruntled “Santa's little helper” as Mabel beamed and giggled.

 

“Do it!” she commanded, and Dipper rolled his eyes.

 

“Maaaaaabeeeeeeelll...” he whined.

 

Video camera already running, Mabel snapped, “Do it!” again. Dipper groaned, head tilted back, before reluctantly beginning to sing.

 

“All I want for Chrithmas ith my two front teef, my two front teef, my two front teef...”

 

 

Mabel showed the video to her parents, later, and although they laughed there was something forced about it, something sad and frightened alongside the amusement. She didn't show it to them again.

 

 

Stan cackled when he saw the video during the twin's first holiday season in Gravity Falls, the house and Shack decked out for Christmas and Hanukkah both (he hadn't decorated for Hanukkah in years, but with Mabel's love of sparkle and glitter, somehow Stan found himself putting up Christmas decorations as well as pulling out the menorah that had been stashed away, unused, for years, and pretending to grumble as Mabel made the whole Shack sparkle...but it was worth it to see her finally smiling).

 

And suddenly, multiple covers of _All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth_ made its way onto the Shack's piped in music, to Dipper's (exaggerated) disgust and Mabel's amusement.

 

 

Mabel didn't share the video with all her significant others – some didn't last to the holiday season, and others she just wasn't close enough to to share all their family traditions with just yet when the season rolled around.

 

Henry, though, saw it their first season together. He was there for all of it, the decorating, the celebrating, and the annual re-watch (including Dipper's moaning at Mabel to stop, it was embarrassing, and Mabel's teasing back, all of which was exaggerated for the fun of it).

 

Henry was the one to finally ask the question that most of them hadn't thought to ask.

 

“What happened to Dipper's old teeth?” he asked offhand as the video came to an end. He sputtered and flushed when everyone else in the room stared at him, waving his hands as he spoke. “Well, I mean, I know they were his human teeth, but they were his, and aren't there rumors about old magic? Like, using hair and teeth and...and stuff? To control other people?”

 

“That's why I kept them!” Mabel said cheerfully. “I thought mom would want to, since she kept our baby teeth, but she got all weird about it, so I did instead. Hold on!” She went pounding up the stairs as the men she left behind looked at each other uncomfortably.

 

Mabel leapt down the last staircase, holding out a jar. It was so heavily decorated it was hard to see anything under all the decorations, and it was fairly obvious this was one of Mabel's childhood crafts, but there was still talent and love there.

 

“All of Dipper's human teeth are in here,” she announced proudly, giving the jar a little shake, like the world's most macabre maraca. “They turned physical after he lost them. I thought I should keep them, both because of what Henry said and 'cuz, well, that's what you do with lost teeth.”

 

“Mabes, that is seriously creepy,” Dipper protested. “At least let me toss them in the mindscape or something, for safekeeping.”

 

Mabel clutched the jar close, faux pouting up at her brother. “What, don't you trust me to keep them safe?”

 

Henry ignored the twins' light hearted bickering to look over at Stan, who was watching the twins with a strange look on his face.

 

He caught Henry looking at him and shrugged with a grunt. Henry let it drop.

 

In the background, the video of Dipper singing _All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth_ rewound and began to play again.

 

 

(A thousand years later, and videos once thought lost to time are found again, found and fixed and can be watched for the first time since they were lost, and old videos of the Pines family are found. Two years pass and the researchers break, summon Alcor to ask why, why did he submit to such a thing?

 

That was the day they learned a demon could blush so hard he could explode into glitter and then refuse to return to your summons or answer a single question.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it's not the next chapter of DACA - that's not finished yet. Have something lighthearted with dark undertones in the meantime. ;)  
> (Also, DACA will be put into its own separate fic - while still remaining here - after it's done. Like with James and Richard's stories.)


	116. Demons Against Child Abuse Pt 4

Naomi tried, over and over again, to speak. She tried dredging up the anger she'd felt when Karen had been so nasty and dismissive, she tried sheer willpower, she tried singing along to her favorite songs.

 

The last finally netted her results, and she sang happily and quietly to herself through two songs before her voice protested the sudden overuse. Naomi slid off her bed, about to go and tell her parents, when she felt her voice lock up again, an almost physical sensation, at the thought of speaking to an adult.

 

Tears brimming at the corners of her eyes, Naomi pounded her fists onto her bed. She wanted to _talk!_ She _needed_ to talk! She had to point out her abuser and tell people that he hurt her and she couldn't! This wouldn't be over unless she could just _talk_.

 

So why couldn't she?

 

 

Naomi didn't let on to anyone just how hard she was trying to speak, but Alcor seemed to figure it out anyway, as he was extra cuddly and hovering. Then again, he had been closer to Naomi ever since the family picnic, so it was a bit hard to tell, but Naomi could. And the demon was definitely being extra affectionate lately, but right now, Naomi didn't feel like complaining about it, even if she could.

 

 

Dr. Yesson was the worst. Or maybe the best. Naomi wasn't really sure at the moment.

 

Okay, so maybe she was the best therapist because she was the worst. Or something.

 

Or maybe Naomi was just still feeling a bit upset over her earlier attempts to talk (earlier failures to talk) was was a bit grouchy.

 

“I didn't say it was a conscious thing,” Dr. Yesson said mildly. “Nothing about this is something you're doing on purpose. We all know that.”

 

Naomi shrugged and kept braiding Dr. Yesson's tail. Okay, maybe sometimes Dr. Yesson said things she didn't want to hear, but she was pretty awesome for letting Naomi play with her tail. It had taken Naomi all of five minutes on the internet to find out how touchy centaurs were about anyone non-herd touching their horse halves and to understand how lenient Dr. Yesson was being with her.

 

“I think we need to do some things to reassure you that, just because you started talking doesn't mean you won't see myself or Alcor again. He calls you his little sister now, doesn't he? You still have the necklace he gave you, so he can keep an eye on you all the time. And there are ways to pay for your therapy should the courts or insurance stop, though honestly, that's highly unlikely.”

 

Naomi couldn't respond to that, as her voice still refused to work except sporadically (and most certainly not when she was under stress) and her hands were busy with Dr. Yesson's tail, and letting go now would ruin the complex braid she was trying.

 

Dr. Yesson peered over her shoulder at her tail, smiling as Naomi fastened it off and began searching for a ribbon that would match Dr. Yesson's headscarf. “So, how's the transition to school going? Do you think you'll feel safe going the half day?”

 

 

Later, Naomi was sitting on her bed when she felt the familiar fizzle of energy that let her know her brother was manifesting onto the physical plane.

 

It had been a slip of the tongue that told everyone how Naomi felt about the demon, one that had taken them all by surprise, but Naomi couldn't regret it. Not when he was treating her like an actual little sister.

 

She was tilting over as soon as she felt his weight dip the bed beside her and landed with her head in his lap.

 

His hands settled on her hair, stroking gently as she stared out over her room.

 

They sat in comfortable silence until Naomi thought up at Alcor, _Dr. Yesson thinks I'm scared to talk. That part of me thinks that if I do talk and this is all taken care of, that's when I'll lose her...and you._

 

Alcor's hand paused on her hair. “Do you really think that? That I'm going to leave once this is all over?” he asked softly.

 

Naomi shrugged. _Not...really? Maybe a little? I mean...I know you love me but there really won't be a reason for you to stick around after the trial..._

 

Alcor was silent for a moment before he sat Naomi back upright. She froze, suddenly unsure, when he slipped off the bed and knelt beside it.

 

“I really should have told you this awhile ago,” he said quietly, ears tilted back and looking rather like a scolded cat. “Naomi, what do you know about true names? Especially when it comes to demons?”

 

 _They never tell anyone their true names,_ Naomi thought back, a little disconcerted by the sudden topic change but going along with it to humor her brother, if only to keep the dark thoughts at bay. _So people can't try and control them with their real names._ _'s why they all have titles._

 

Alcor nodded. “And technically, Alcor is mine,” he said. “My proper name...I only give that to people when I intend to annoy them for the rest of their lives. Because I trust them, and now they have to put up with me popping in and out and bothering them constantly. Because people I can trust aren't exactly easy to come by, you know?”

 

He smiled up at her again. “My proper name is Dipper,” he said. “I only tell that when I mean to stay.”

 

 _Dipper isn't a proper name for a demon,_ Naomi thought through giggles, even as she felt a rush of love for the demon in front of her.

 

Dipper stuck out his tongue at her and pushed back his bangs, revealing a birth mark.

 

Awed, Naomi reached forward and traced her finger over it lightly. _You have the Big Dipper on your forehead,_ she thought almost reverently.

 

“Yeah,” he said softly. “So...Dipper.”

 

Naomi giggled and slid off the bed to hug Dipper. _Hi, Dipper. It's nice to finally meet you._

 

 

Naomi began to improve after that conversation, steadily if slowly. She couldn't really say why it was that having Dipper share his Name with her meant so much (she had slipped and used it when signing to him in front of her parents, and she'd been so terrified for a few minutes, that the first big secret he had trusted her with and she'd already betrayed that trust. It was a minor miracle and more reassuring, more of a promise than he'd realized, when Dipper didn't get angry at the slip, only mentioned that he'd been thinking of telling them sooner or later anyway, but try and remember it was a secret so maybe be a bit more careful about it when outside the house there princess?) but it did, it meant so, so much.

 

For all her progress towards regaining speech was steady, it didn't mean there weren't setbacks. Naomi would manage half a conversation with her parents and her voice would lock up. Naomi would try to speak to Dr. Yesson, an adult she knew and trusted, and found her voice unreliable. It was unpredictable and so very, very frustrating, despite Dr. Yesson's assurances that she was doing well, that trying to force it would only make her more frustrated and, annoyingly, lock her voice shut tighter.

 

Logically, Naomi knew what Dr. Yesson was saying made sense. But it didn't stop her from being discouraged, even though she knew it was silly. She wanted to talk again! Yes, she was managing some speech, but she wanted to talk as easily as she had before...before all of this.

 

The thought of speaking in front of a room full of strangers...a room full of strangers who would be judging her, trying to decide if she was telling the truth, or if they would believe the man who hurt her instead...froze her voice worse than any other thought, and knowing that she had to do this thing, that she was the only one who could go on that witness stand, point him out, and say he did it...

 

Thinking too hard about it sent Naomi into her first panic attack in months.

 

When she calmed she found herself wrapped in dark wings, wings covered in pinpricks of light like the night sky she hadn't seen in so long, her face covered in tears that were wiped away with gloved hands, and she pressed her face to Dipper's shirt before allowing the sound of his breath to lull her to sleep.

 

 

A week.

 

After all this time, a year and a half at the least since Dr. Yesson had called on Alcor for help, and Naomi only had a week to go before the trial.

 

She tried to claim she was ready, but they all knew she wasn't going to ever really be ready.

 

The fact that Dipper had to eat three nightmares in two days was proof enough of that.

 

 

The week passed both far too slowly and far too quickly.

 

All too soon, Naomi found herself staring at the door of a courtroom, sitting in the hallway with her parents and Dr. Yesson to one side and Alcor on the other, wrapped in his human guise. Naomi had a death grip on her mother and Dipper's hands, trying to be brave and not sure she was succeeding.

 

“When are you going to go all demon?” Naomi asked softly, forcing herself to use her voice. If she didn't, she was half afraid it would fail her as soon as she entered that courtroom.

 

“Do you want me to?” Dipper asked, just as soft.

 

Naomi nodded, firmly. “I want everyone to know who I have on my side,” she said.

 

Dipper glanced over at Naomi's parents and Dr. Yesson, who nodded back with varying degrees of certainty. The smile he gave them back held more than a hint of fang.

 

“We'll see,” was all he said. “We'll see.”

 

 

They entered the courtroom as a group, with Naomi safely at the center. According to Dr. Yesson, who had been coaching Naomi on what to expect (it was a bit above and beyond her usual job, but then again, summoning Alcor to protect Naomi had been when that line was first crossed, so this was nothing), Naomi was to sit in the witness stand, tell what had happened to her, or at least as much as she could, and point to the man who did it.

 

Because she was a minor, the defense wasn't going to be allowed to cross-examine Naomi. Though Dr. Yesson warned them that someone might still ask Naomi questions, for clarifications, and that she wasn't to prepare what she was going to say. In a year or two, she could have, but at thirteen, prepared statements were still considered to smack of being coached to point out someone, coached to say things, rather than explaining what had happened.

 

 

Naomi thought she would be terrified, walking into that courtroom. Facing down the man who hurt her...it was why she'd lost her voice. He and his flying monkeys had terrorized her and her family (the harassment trial was going on without her, after finally getting to court), he'd _hurt_ her, and so many times people didn't believe victims when they came forward, but now that the time had come...

 

As she squeezed Dipper's hand again one last time before she had to walk to the witness stand alone, she realized she wasn't scared anymore.

 

Naomi looked back at Dipper as she sat down and he winked at her, that human eye flickering to gold on black for a brief second, and knew she had her backup.

 

 

Naomi refused to look at her molester as she gave her statements. She kept her eyes on Dipper, in the front row, unless she needed to look at the prosecutor as she gave her statement.

 

As they wrapped up, the judge commented, “For someone who was too afraid to speak, you've certainly managed well enough here. Aren't you afraid?”

 

Naomi smiled, an answering smirk on Dipper's face. “My friend is scarier than he is,” she said simply.

 

Dr. Yesson silently facepalmed as nearly every eye in the room turned to Dipper. He grinned, teeth too sharp, ears too pointed, and his eyes flickered from human to demon.

 

That demonic gaze slid to Naomi's attacker and back to the judge, with a raised eyebrow.

 

The judge cleared his throat and hurriedly dismissed Naomi.

 

Dipper walked her and her family, including Dr. Yesson, out, pausing inside the door and shutting it after her before walking back into the courtroom.

 

His shoes echoed as he walked back up to the front, and he stopped, hip-shot, to stare them all down. Tiny wings at his hips, which had been tucked against his back, unfolded to flicker gently at his sides.

 

“If anyone gets any i̵̢̡de͝͞a͘͞s about coming after someone to pin blame on them for me showing up,” he said, sharp demon eyes traveling over the humans in the courtroom who stood frozen under that inhuman stare, “I want it known I showed up on my own. I felt need, and I came. But if anyone here thinks to punish someone, anyone, for associating with me or to take Naomi away from the people who care about her, to 'protect' her from me...” he paused for an unnecessary breath, staring them all down, “I won't be happy. And I'll make sure everyone k͘n͝o̴̧͡w̸͟͢s̵̷͡ju̢st ̸h̸ow ̧un̕ḩap͝py ̡I͝ ̷am, if you understand what I mean. Everyone got it? We're all good?” He smiled, far too sweet, like sugary poison. “Good. I'm glad we had this talk.”

 

He spun on his heel and headed out of the courtroom, waving casually. He paused halfway out open door, looking back at them all, still stunned silent. “Don't forget. I'm keeping an eye on all of them. I'll know if you try anything. S̨o stay҉ away f͞r̡om t̵h̛e͟m. Thanks!” Most of the speech was said seriously, but once again, the end 'thanks' was bright and cheerful and so much more disturbing.

 

The door closed with a final sounding click, but no one inside moved for nearly a full minute.

 

Finally the judge cleared his throat again. “Moving on,” he said, and the trial proceeded as if the earlier revelation had never happened.

 

(There were protests, later on, that they were ignoring the literal demon that had been in the room, why was no one going to go after them, and the judge, at the end of his temper, finally snapped. “Maybe if you and yours hadn't terrified them to the point of Alcor the Dreambender showing up to defend a child, none of this would have happened. So I firmly suggest you sit down and stop talking before I decide to have it investigated to see just why he decided to show up!”)

 

 

The trial wrapped up fairly quickly after Naomi testified...or at least, quickly for the court system. Naomi's testimony would have been enough to put him away without the demon, but with him, well...

 

Sometimes it was better to give the demon what he wanted, when it went along with what you already planned to do.

 

 

The Caligors had a party – small and subdued, but still a party – when the verdict came in.

 

It was for those who had stuck with them during the whole ordeal, with a more private celebration later after the bigger party was over, for Naomi, and her parents, Alisha, and Rose (who started the whole thing, what with being Circle of the Dreamer's Star and helping Alisha call on Alcor, and who looked a bit awe-struck at being in the presence of her god), and of course, Dipper.

 

It was the first time any of them felt truly relaxed since this entire nightmare began. Their tormentors were in jail, and unlikely to be released for a very, very long time.

 

They had restraining orders against those who hadn't gone to jail, and people afraid to try and come against them because of the rumors that Alcor the Dreambender had decided to watch over this family in one of his protective streaks.

 

It was odd that a demon would do that, but that was Alcor for you. Unpredictable and an outlier that didn't always behave the way a demon should, but who had never harmed a child, who took it into his head to protect them instead.

 

 

Despite everything, Naomi was still worried that Dipper wouldn't have as much time for her, now that the trial was over. Dr. Yesson she also wondered about, even though the centauress had made it clear that Naomi was going to still need therapy for quite awhile yet, and that she was going to be that therapist so long as Naomi needed her.

 

At least, she worried until almost a month later and Dipper was still there every day, even if only for a few hours.

 

Dipper smirked at her, upside down, when he sensed Naomi's relief. “I warned you,” he said. “You're never getting rid of me now.”

 

 

Two months after the trial, Dipper blipped into the house, grinning like a maniac. “Hey, Nam, you're not going to believe the rumor I just heard! Just guess who people think you are now!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the end of Naomi's story...for now, at least. It ended up longer than expected, that's for sure. Plan is to post these chapters as their own story in a day or two. May come back to these characters someday if there's ideas but for now...hope everyone liked them. :)


	117. Dressing a Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of instances where Mabel is shown trying to embarrass Dipper during summons. Does she ever do the opposite, where she'll help fix his suit or make sure his hair is in order, because she knows how hard he tries to impress people (like with his thing about manliness). I'd like to imagine Dipper practicing his demon smile with her, and Mabel helping him figure out different poses and cool phrases to say.
> 
> Absolutely! As much as she likes to tease and embarrass him, Mabel also knows that Dipper is going through a lot of shit, and he needs her help.
> 
> Her help, and also her fashion advice because yes, he’s wearing a suit now, but he’s mixing fabrics and that will not do.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/136974335316/there-are-a-lot-of-instances-where-mabel-is-shown

 

 

Dipper had always been self conscious, no matter how hard he tried to hide it behind big words and posturing.

 

Mabel knew it better than anyone – she'd been dealing with it for her entire life, after all. Her self confidence wasn't feigned, but she'd also had her brother backing her up no matter what.

 

The Transcendence...made things worse in many ways. Mabel liked to think that if her brother had been allowed to grow up human, then maybe he would have grown into himself. He'd already been more mature at the end of the summer than before they'd left, so maybe. Maybe he would have grown into the confidence he'd faked, maybe he wouldn't try so hard to impress people but would have grown confident in himself enough to not need to show off.

 

Well. She was never going to find out now, and thinking about it too much just made her sad, and that would get her brother all worked up.

 

So – while she was going to tease and embarrass him, of course she was, she was still his sister – her brother could use her help. He couldn't demon, couldn't make deals and make a reputation for himself that would keep him safe, without at least faking confidence.

 

But first off... her brother had no clue about fashion. Little surprise there, he'd worn the same outfit for the entire summer they'd been in Gravity Falls, and his wardrobe had always been fairly limited.

 

Nobody was going to take a pre-teen in a t-shirt, shorts, and puffy vest seriously as a demon, no matter how many demonic attributes he had.

 

It was both a relief and a strange pain when Mabel walked into the bedroom they now shared – because it was painful to go into Dipper's room, left exactly as it had been the day they left for Gravity Falls, filled with all his own things as if it were a memorial to the boy he'd been – and found her brother fiddling with the cufflinks of a dress shirt.

 

Getting Dipper into anything more formal than a t-shirt had always been a challenge. Dipper glanced up at Mabel, refusing to meet her eyes, and Mabel was for once at a loss for words.

 

“I just...the t-shirt didn't feel right anymore,” Dipper muttered, tugging again at the cufflink. “I...this feels right. But I look like _him_.” This last was snarled, showing the tips of teeth that were slowly growing sharper, a few gaps where one or two had fallen out, slowly being replaced by newer, sharper teeth.

 

Mentally, Mabel added a note to herself to add into the book she had been writing for Grunkle Stan when they visited not to bring up the suit. Though...a suit? She'd been hoping for something a bit more exciting, like that hottie from the Last Legend XIIVI game...still...she could work with this.

 

Outwardly, she stood hipshot, hand to her chin, considering. “Nah, you don't look triangle-y enough for that,” she declared. “But you can't go to summons like that, broseph.”

 

Dipper planted hands on his own hips, pouting back at her, and Mabel got a good look at Dipper's new suit. Vest, not bad, could use some adjusting and tailoring. White dress shirt, black slacks, matte black shoes, gold cufflinks that were, she noticed with a tiny shudder, shaped like triangles. If Dipper was going to stick with the full formal look, she might need to call Pacifica for some advice, but this was a decent start.

 

A decent start, but... “You can't mix fabrics like that, Dipper. Trust me,” she said firmly.

 

“You do all the time!” Dipper protested as Mabel started up the computer her parents had gotten her recently so she could stay in touch with her friends back in the Falls.

 

“I'm not trying to impress people,” Mabel replied, “I've got my own thing going. The Rules of Mabel say I can do what every I want! But you're going all formal. There's rules for that. And...here they are!” Mabel spun in her chair and looked over her brother with a grin. “Let's get to work, bro-bro.”

 

 

The suit Mabel and Dipper came up with that day would be changed quite a few more times before it was finalized.

 

Especially once they moved back to the Falls and Pacifica became their friend again – a few years left without allies was not kind to Pacifica's emerging spine or her tentative friendships with those her parents didn't approve of...people like the Pines.

 

But she did provide valuable help when it came to dressing in full formal wear – despite their best efforts, some of Mabel's style had still snuck into Dipper's suit.

 

He did keep Mabel's suggestion of star shaped buttons and cufflinks, despite every bit of advice against them.

 

 

Dipper's hair had always been a bit of a mess. Dipper and their mother had argued about it before, mostly over his insistence on keeping his bangs long. Admittedly, Anna usually only tried to get Dipper to cut his bangs when she thought they were starting to get into his eyes, but they all knew he needed to comb his hair more often than he did.

 

Now that Dipper had to form his body from will and memory, sometimes he was grateful he remembered hair at all. It was something he didn't think about, just did as part of his internal image of himself.

 

Dipper posed in front of the mirror, inspecting his appearance. Frowning, he brushed at his hair, groaning as his claws tangled in it.

 

Mabel appeared in the mirror over Dipper's shoulder and he jumped, shocked that Mabel could sneak up on him and waiting for the teasing to start.

 

Instead, Mabel held up a comb and fussed with Dipper's bangs for a minute, until they were as smooth as they could get between the curls and fluff. Tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, she continued on to the rest of her brother's hair, ignoring the few half-hearted protests he made, smiling to herself when he relaxed under her combing.

 

Sometimes, her brother was more like a kitten than he wanted to admit...and adding claws to the mix hadn't helped.

 

Mabel didn't voice her thoughts for once, simply finishing with Dipper's hair. Humming to herself, she straightened Dipper's collar and the small bow tie he'd taken to wearing, brushing off the shoulders of his suit.

 

She stepped back, giving her brother a once-over. Reaching out, she tugged his tailcoat into a straighter line before nodding. “Looking pretty sharp there, broseph,” she said before Dipper could start fussing under her scrutiny. Instead, her brother puffed up a little, confidence buoyed by the praise and preening.

 

Mabel stifled a giggle. “Okay, show me your game face,” she prompted.

 

“...really, Mabes?” Dipperr asked hesitantly. “Last time you caught me practicing you teased me the rest of the day.”

 

“You were walking through the whole thing in the mirror,” Mabel countered. “That was hilarious, bro-bro. But come on. I can't have my demon brother being less scary than I am.”

 

Dipper stared at her deadpan before gesturing at his eyes, his fangs, flexing his hand to let the light shine off his claws.

 

Mabel brushed them off with a raspberry. “You're scary as a kitten, Dipdop. Come on, I'll bet Grunkle Stan has some advice. We need to think of something for you to say when you first show up...” she said, starting down the stairs, her brother trailing behind her curiously. “Geez, there's a lot of things to figure out! But don't you worry, bro-bro, you've got the Power of Mabel on your side!”

 

“Yeah,” Dipper said softly pausing to watch his sister for a moment. “Yeah, I do.”

 

 

Dipper had thought, with Mabel gone so many years, that the grooming, the hints on being terrifying, the fashion advice, had gone with her.

 

In some cases, in some times, he was right.

 

But in others, he was so very wrong, and as human fears and fashions changed, couldn't be more grateful for that one little thing that so many of his sister's incarnations shared, that one little sign of affection to cling to and to crave, as her incarnations gave him advice and prodded him to keep up with the times in their own ways.

 

 


	118. Sheep Riding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, sheep riding is a thing. Only kids can ride sheep (or very small adults), but it is a thing and there are pictures and they are great. Of course this made me think of this au, and how Dipper and Acacia would totally ride demon sheep, and they'd probably manage to convince Hank and Willow to join in. Sheep racing: fun for the whole family! (Mabel is the ref. Stan collects bets. Henry just sighs.)
> 
> and then one day some people come to watch and eventually the whole town is showing up to these things and it turns into this annual tradition for the town… its a blast and everything is on fire and its sorta like monster truck rallys or something only its DEMON SHEEP and its just a great time for everyone (who wouldnt pay to see that. i know i would)
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/103750720353/apparently-sheep-riding-is-a-thing-only-kids-can

 

The first ride was spontaneous, a test of newly-forming trust between nightmares and demon.

 

Their new master had promised not to harm them, and so far had kept his word. But right now he was weak and in pain, and they were made of energy and had to obey him.

 

The perfect demon snack.

 

Their master was still different, though, as at least some of his pain was emotion, not physical, and demons didn't do emotional pain. They did anger, they did glee, but not grief.

 

A few feet away from where the nightmares milled uncertainly their new master had collapsed on the grass, trying to patch his wounds as golden tears rolled down his cheeks.

 

Finally tired of the uncertainty, the nightmare recently christened Lolonja stepped forward, accepting that it was, apparently, her fate to approach their master first in these uncertain situations.

 

Dipper looked up at her as she came close, rubbing a sleeve roughly across his face. “I thought...” he said quietly, roughly, “I thought the worst was going to be over when we defeated Bill. But now everything's even worse. What's the point of having this much power if I still can't keep everyone safe? If everyone still ends up hurting and upset anyway?”

 

He sniffled as Lolonja tentatively nuzzled his side. “Is there any perk to being a demon at all?”

 

Lolonja considered for a moment. The idea that had popped into her head from seemingly nowhere was silly, and potentially deadly (for her, at least) but...already she wanted to please this new, tiny master, who cared about them, and spoke kindly, and thought of them as individuals.

 

Whether that was real or not she didn't know, but it seemed she was about to find out.

 

She nuzzled his side again, harder, until her new master lost his balance and toppled over, catching himself with one hand. Another master would have lashed out at her for such insolence, destroyed her with less thought than it took for a human to swat at a fly.

 

This new master just looked up at her in confusion, watching and wiping his face off again, staining the cloth golden, as Lolonja knelt beside him. She gestured to her back, repeating the motion when he didn't move.

 

Slowly Dipper climbed to his feet, gingerly climbing aboard under Lolonja's encouragement. Finally he was astride, hands clutching at wool the color of an oil slick nervously.

 

“Okay, so why...?” he began to ask, when Lolonja took off, his question cut off by a yelp.

 

“Whooooa! Hey, what are you doing?” Dipper yelled as Lolonja sped across the meadow, leaping high and going so fast parts of the meadow were a blur. Soon after, his yelping turned to whoots as Lolonja continued to leap and bound, urging her on to faster and greater heights.

 

Finally she skidded to a halt and Dipper topped off, laughing. “That...that was amazing!” he laughed, reaching up to hug a smug Lolonja. “Thank you. I think...I think that was just what I needed.”

 

 

Sometimes Dipper forgot to tell his sister everything that came along with being a demon.

 

Okay, well, a few times it wasn't so much 'forgot' as 'didn't want to further burden his sister with facts about the existential dread he faced when she already had so much on her shoulders', but there were a few times the word honestly was 'forgot'.

 

There were a lot of things going on, so even though he meant to share things with Mabel, well...

 

It turned out that riding the Flock was one of the things he forgot to mention, though in his defense, it was a rare thing, since he floated constantly and didn't need to ride the Flock, only doing it occasionally for fun.

 

At least, he forgot until Mabel came across extreme sheep herding and sheep riding online and brought it up, wondering if the Flcok could do it too.

 

“WHEN were you going to TELL ME you can RIDE THE FLOCK?” Mabel demanded when Dipper confirmed he'd ridden some of the nightmares – usually Lolonja.

 

“I...forgot?” he admitted, confused. “I mean, I don't do it a lot, and I...never thought to ask if they'd let anyone else ride them? I mean...they'd do it if I demanded they did, but I don't want to order them to do things like that?”

 

“Well can you ask them for me?” Mabel asked, jittering with excitement.

 

“I...sure, why not,” Dipper said. “Give me a minute, I'll go ask.”

 

Dipper reappeared a few minutes later, and accepted another Snickers from Mabel in exchange for time on the physical plane. There were two nightmares with him, one Mabel recognized as Lolonja, and the other Dipper identified as Groknar the Destroyer.

 

Groknar was quite a bit larger than Lolonja, but given that Mabel was quite a bit heavier than Dipper by now (as she was made of flesh and blood and muscle – lots of muscle – as opposed to her brother, whose body was formed by light and will unless he went to the trouble of creating something more substantial) that was necessary for her to ride him.

 

With a cheer, Mabel clambered onto Groknar's back when the nightmare knelt to let her on, Dipper hurrying onto Lolonja.

 

“Race you!” Mabel crowed, and the nightmares laughed, a noise like static and crackling overlaying the sound, and both reared and took off at high speed into the forest, leaving mayhem in their wake.

 

 

The sheep riding continued, though still sporadic. Sometimes a twin would feel the need to run and run, and a car wouldn't do, nor would flying, and there was almost always a willing nightmare ready to come onto the physical plane and just _go_. Feel the real wind in their wool and real ground under their hooves, and feel the excitement of their Master or his twin.

 

The first time Henry saw his wife and her brother racing nightmare sheep, he had to go inside and sit down. Both twins were reckless, and there was fire and sharp horns and teeth involved, and it didn't really matter how many times they reassured Henry that the nightmares wouldn't let them fall off until it was over, it was a long time before he could watch them.

 

 

With the arrival of the triplets, the races died off. Sometimes Dipper would still go for a ride, but with three kids demanding her attention, Mabel didn't have the time for frequent races the way she once had – and neither did Dipper, for the same reason.

 

Most of them forgot about it, in general. The Flock were a part of their everyday lives, sent on errands once in awhile or allowed to graze on the Library's lawn, placid as the sheep they somewhat resembled.

 

Until the day eleven year old Acacia caught her uncle riding one.

 

She didn't say anything then, just watched with wide eyes as the nightmare trotted onto the lawn, taking note of how her uncle sat on it, how he gripped the wool, and resolved then and there that she was going to ride one, too.

 

 

Acacia waited until her uncle was thoroughly distracted before sneaking out of the house and towards the nearest nightmare. From the window she could feel her siblings watching her nervously as she crept closer.

 

None of the nightmares would ever hurt her or her siblings, Acacia knew that fact in her bones, but that didn't mean they were necessarily going to accept her riding them like her uncle did quietly.

 

Moving quickly, Acacia hurried to the nightmare, who paused its grazing to look at her curiously. With a leap and a scramble Acacia was clambering up its side until she successfully sat perched on its back.

 

Under her, the nightmare had gone stiff, a combination of shock and confusion, that the small human _dared_ , but it was one of the Master's children, but she didn't even ask, and what do?

 

Torn, Fluffernutter hesitated long enough for Acacia to get a good grip on their wool and lean forward, urging them on.

 

They jumped in surprise when she tried to get them to move before trotting over toward their Master in a hurry, ignoring her protests as they rammed gently into him from behind.

 

They baa-ed pitifully when he turned around, looking over the guilty Acacia and confused Fluffernutter in surprise.

 

The other nightmares, for their parts, were rather amused and a little nervous over the whole situation.

 

“You know,” Uncle Dipper said, bending slightly to look Acacia in the eye, “if you wanted to learn to ride the nightmares, all you had to do was ask. And you have to ask them, too. It's only polite to at least ask.”

 

Acacia muttered a 'sorry' to both her uncle and Fluffernutter, who was beginning to relax now that their Master had taken control of the situation.

 

“So,” Dipper said, standing up and addressing both Flock and children, who had come out onto the porch, “who wants to learn to ride demon sheep? And who wants to let them ride?”

 

An hour later Henry stepped outside to check on his children, watched silently as his brother and children rode around the yard on demon sheep, Acacia and Hank fake-jousting while Dipper and Willow raced, and just as silently turned around and went back inside.

 

Some things he just wasn't going to deal with.

 

 

Now that the kids were riding the sheep, Mabel suddenly had an opportunity to ride them again too – and though Acacia and her uncle were willing to mock-fight each other, Mabel and Dipper could go at it much harder than he would with his niece.

 

Hard enough, eventually Henry got (somewhat) reluctantly dragged in, to referee the matches, as both twins had a tendency to go overboard fast and hard, while Stan sat on the porch and egged them all on indiscriminately. Henry, at least, was willing to call a halt to things before they really got out of hand.

 

 

The next level of sheep riding snowballed, as things had a tendency to do in Gravity Falls.

 

It just so happened that Henry's Uncle Tyler and Uncle Dan dropped by for a visit on a day when the sheep riding was in full swing, and stayed to watch (and make a few bets with Stan).

 

The next week, they brought the boys and a few friends. The week after, more people came, and someone set up a grill on the tailgate of their truck and someone else set up coolers of drinks while everyone else sat on lawn chairs, eating hot dogs and hamburgers and cheering on the riders while Stan raked in bets and Henry just tried to keep things going smoothly.

 

It kept getting bigger, until it was simply too big to hold at the Library anymore, and Dipper was going to have to convince some more sheep to come let themselves be ridden by some of the smaller people in town.

 

By now, the kids were fifteen, and old enough to participate (mostly, so long as things didn't get too out of hand) but the real intense riding needed adults...and safety gear.

 

There was a town hall meeting about it, and in the end, it was decided to convert the crater left behind from when Dipper had faced down Afardow the Prideful into a Demon Sheep Rally pit, complete with bleachers, fences, and areas to make and eat food.

 

And a first aid station for those who weren't demons or had a demon to take care of any injuries they might accidentally end up with.

 

Dipper was hesitant about the idea at first – he avoided that area, pride over the win be damned – until Henry, that bastion of common sense, mentioned how nice it was they could actually make something somewhat productive out of the crater, which had refused to grow even the most hardy of plants since the fight and had remained a blight.

 

At least there was nothing there to catch on fire from all the demonic flames and fireworks.

 

Other towns could keep their monster truck rallies. Only in Gravity Falls could you find demon sheep, and those could cause so much more chaos than a truck ever could.

 


	119. Designated Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunk Cassie summoning Dipper in a party because the designated driver of the group got drunk off his ass and they need to go back home. Cassie's friends shitting their pants as Cassie makes a deal with one of the most powerful demons in existence like no one's business. Meanwhile Alcor is giving the designated driver the driest look to ever exist, much to the guy's terror.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/106915384943/drunk-cassie-summoning-dipper-in-a-party-because

 

Cassie didn't much care for getting drunk. She didn't like lowering her inhibitions that much. Lowering her inhibitions – although it had been more desperation at the time – was what had led her to summoning a demon for help with her math homework.

 

Admittedly, that had worked out just fine, but he'd lectured her enough about it for Cassie to know all the ways it could have gone wrong.

 

Still, Eric had promised, cross his heart and hope to die, that he was going to be the designated driver tonight, and she trusted everyone at this party, so what was the harm in indulging a little for once, right?

 

As it turned out...she really needed to find someone else to be designated driver from now on, as Eric grinned sloppily at her and her friends.

 

“Eric, you _promised_ ,” Justin groaned, his words more than a little slurred, and Eric grinned back, still unrepentant.

 

“I'm a miserable liar,” he agreed, slurred and drunken.

 

Beside Cassie, Alice, who had work in the morning, and Amber, who had a test tomorrow afternoon, both of whom had been counting on Eric getting them home early enough they could drink some water and prep the hangover cure (only Cassie and Justin knew who had created the hangover cure and intended to keep it that way), looked ready to cry.

 

Dimitri, meanwhile, looked close to losing his temper. “Don't you get what 'designated driver' means, Eric?” he snapped. “What the hell, man?”

 

Eric shrugged and Cassie groaned, covering her face with one hand. She glanced around the room quickly from behind that hand, judging just how many were left.

 

Almost everyone had gone home already, in similar situations to Alice and Amber, and those who remained were, if she was judging it right, too drunk to remember much the next morning.

 

“Okay, backup plan,” she announced. “Just...just hang on a few.”

 

Her friends expected Cassie to pull out her phone, maybe call another friend or a parent (which would suck but at least they'd get home without one of them driving) and were mystified when she pulled out a handkerchief instead.

 

Without a word, she turned and headed off towards another room, snagging another drink off the counter as she went, the rest of them trailing behind like confused ducklings. The new room was empty, and Cassie shut the door firmly, cutting off the sounds of the dying party.

 

She laid the handkerchief on the floor, carefully spreading it flat before digging in her pocket for a piece of candy.

 

“Hey, Alcor, I need a favor,” Cassie announced, pouring the drink onto the handkerchief. Her friends were too drunk or buzzed for the name to register at first, but when the first swirls of smoke began to rise from the handkerchief it finally did.

 

The smoke was all the theatrics bothered with, as Alcor appeared with no other fanfare above the tiny circle.

 

“Hey Cassie!” the demon said cheerfully, accepting the candy she tossed to him. His eyes ran over the group, faintly amused, as they all stared at him in various stages of dismay and terror depending on their state of inebriation (all save Justin, who was mildly amused if a little horrified Cassie was calling on Alcor for this). “What's up?”

 

“So Eric over there was supposed to be our designated driver,” Cassie said, jerking a thumb towards Eric, who quailed under Alcor's unamused – and growing more disapproving as Cassie continued – stare, “but obviously he didn't take that seriously. He's the drunkest one here. We need rides home. Think you can help us out?”

 

Alcor had crossed his arms during Cassie's explanation, and the look he was giving the shrinking Eric was could only be termed as 'disapproving dad', which was very odd to see on a demon.

 

Alcor heaved a sigh, sounding more and more like a disappointed dad than the terrifying demon he was. He gave Eric another withering look before pointing at him. Eric quailed as he stared down that clawed finger, wilting as Alcor delivered a biting lecture on responsibility and keeping one's word as the rest of the group looked at each other in utter confusion...save Cassie and Justin, who were biting back giggles.

 

Lecture finally complete, Alcor gave a little huff and turned back to Cassie. “Right, let's get all of you home now. We can split ice cream as payment after everyone else gets home.”

 

“Deal!” Cassie declared, shaking his hand. “Come on, let's blow this place.”

 

Alcor grinned and the world around them dissolved.

 

He was at least kind enough to leave them all the hangover cure, even if Eric's came with a little note reminding him that he did not want to annoy the demon again, so would he please just remember he was designated driver, okay?

 

Because next time he put people Alcor liked at risk like that, Alcor wasn't going to be so nice.

 


	120. Taste Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dipper and Lucy Ann argue about which animal's blood tastes the best. (Henry: What the fuCK)
> 
> Henry comes home once to the kitchen table covered in hundreds of small labeled vials and two blood smeared faces out of most people’s nightmares
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/142479980215/when-dipper-and-lucy-ann-argue-about-whic

 

 

Lucy Ann wasn't used to spending most of her time in one place.

 

Oh, sure, she would sometimes settle down for awhile, but before the Transcendence, a small child living on her own got attention sooner or later, and it was better to keep on the move than try and deal with well-intentioned people.

 

Oh, she'd played along a few times, but as health care improved it was harder and harder to fake her own death and therefore skip town before someone noticed she wasn't getting any older, or try and blame her lack of growth on...well, just about anything.

 

Those were a mixed bag of memories Lucy Ann didn't care to open very often.

 

Right now, with the burgeoning Dinner Crew, Lucy Ann figured she had spent more time in one city than she had in a good century, and found herself with itchy feet.

 

But at the same time, she didn't want to be too far away from Hank and the others, who didn't understand just what sort of hornet's nest they'd poked just yet.

 

A trip down to Gravity Falls to visit Hank's family seemed like a good solution. Still within contact, but a different enough location to still that itch.

 

Which was how she came to be sitting on the Library steps, looking out into the forest with Hank's uncle, the demon.

 

He was still a bit of a shock, but she was getting used to it. It certainly explained a lot about Hank and his sisters, that was for sure.

 

Right now, Dipper was regaling her with the story of a batch of vampires he and his sister had gone up against, back when they were still getting into the whole Mystery-Twins-cult-busting business.

 

He'd been a little hesitant at the beginning to tell the story, as it was about vampires, but Lucy Ann poked and prodded him into telling it.

 

She'd known that group, and she wanted to hear how they got their asses kicked by a couple of teenagers. Sure as hell had earned it.

 

“...and so they said fine, they'd play, but if they won, they got to eat Mabel, and they'd get to drink my blood, and...is that even possible?” Dipper asked, turning to Lucy Ann.

 

She raised an eyebrow at him, an expression it had taken her time to master but was proving a worthwhile use of her time, as it irritated him. “Eating a human? Well obviously,” she answered.

 

Huffy demon was hilarious, though she didn't let it show. “No,” he half whined. “A vampire drinking demon blood. I know my blood's golden now, and other demons have other colors, and I'm pretty sure some of them were acidic if the way it reacted when it hit things was any indication, so could a vampire even drink demon blood?”

 

Lucy Ann thought for a moment, forgoing the teasing for the more interesting question. Finally she shrugged. “No idea,” she said bluntly. “I don't think I remember ever hearing of someone actually doing it, and it'd probably depend on the demon. Could you imagine drinking that acid blood you saw?”

 

Dipper, the demon, blushed and looked away. “Oh,” Lucy Ann said.

 

There was an awkward silence for a moment before she spoke again. “So? How'd it taste?”

 

“Lucy Ann!” Dipper said, half in mock shock, half real. Then he grew thoughtful, looking off into the distance, suddenly forked tongue licking his lips. “Like when you eat something that's too hot, when you aren't patient enough to let it cool off first. Tangy. Not sure what would happen if someone other than another demon had tried it, though.”

 

Lucy Ann made a small hum, looking out into the woods. “...wonder what species tastes best,” she said musingly.

 

“You can drink things other than human blood?” Dipper asked.

 

She smirked at him. “You mean you don't know?”

 

Dipper stiffened and Lucy Ann laughed. “Eh, I'm just messing with you. Yeah, I can drink other kinds of blood. Other stuff, too, if I get blood in it. Human blood just tastes better, and we get more out of it. Guess my vote's for human blood tasting best. Though I don't know, never did get to try demon...”

 

She flashed fangs at him, and Dipper laughed. “Well, I've never tried vampire blood,” he said. “I don't think demon blood is safe for you to try. Well, mine might be, since I was human first, but...”

 

“You can try mine if I can try yours,” Lucy Ann half teased, half offered. “Besides, I'm over five thousand years old, I think I can handle a little over-powered blood. Besides, what, you think you taste best or something?”

 

“What blood does taste best?” Dipper asked musingly, distracted from Lucy Ann's prodding.

 

“I already said, human,” Lucy Ann said testily, and Dipper grinned.

 

“No, really, are you sure? I mean, it's not like we've tasted all the blood that's out there.”

 

Lucy Ann smirked. “Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?”

 

 

Henry pulled into the back lot of the Library and parked the truck. Work today had been long but productive, and he just wanted to get dinner started so he could go sit down for a bit.

 

He crossed the living room, heading towards the kitchen and waving to Stan.

 

“Might wanna think twice before you head in there,” Stan grunted. Henry paused, one hand on the kitchen door, and Stan waved a hand. “Kid and that vamp friend of Hank's went in there a few hours ago, haven't come out since.”

 

Henry took a deep breath and pushed open the door, Stan's “Don't say I didn't warn ya!” ringing behind him.

 

He stepped into the kitchen and froze. Two faces turned to look at him, two faces smeared with blood bearing bloody fangs as they grinned at him. The table was covered in labeled vials and papers, but for all the blood the vampire and demon were covered in, Henry was grateful to note that they'd kept the table fairly clean, save for the occasional random drops.

 

“Hi, Henry!” Dipper chirped, and Henry had to fight the urge to either facepalm or feel ill, despite his long history with the demon.

 

“What are you two doing?” he asked instead, hoping against all the previous times something similar had happened that this time there was a good reason for this.

 

Lucy Ann went to wipe her face on her sleeve and sputtered as Henry tossed a napkin at her just in time. She rolled her eyes and wiped at her face, sitting back in her chair.

 

“I haven't been that sloppy in ages,” she commented. “Got in a bit of an argument over what tastes best,” she added to Henry, gesturing at the vials and papers. “I don't think we've got any clue yet really, but it was worth it. Oh, and you still owe me blood,” she added, pointing at Dipper.

 

“Only when we finish the rest, and we've still got three to try,” Dipper argued back. “Quit being so impatient.”

 

“Um...are you sure demon blood is safe?” Henry asked the tiny vampire, knowing she was older than he could ever be but unable to stop the worried words as if she were the age she appeared.

 

Lucy Ann waved, as if brushing aside his concerns. “Eh, the dork already worried about that. Just going to get a taste, see how that works out, maybe try more later if it doesn't affect me. If it wasn't this dork, probably wouldn't be safe, but eh, I'm willing to try it. Might be good in a drink. Okay, next vial, what've we got?”

 

“Unicorn,” Dipper announced, handing over the multicolored vial before downing his own. “Ugh. Tastes like...sugar and horseradish.”

 

Lucy Ann tipped back the vial and drank, making a face while Henry stood frozen in the doorway, wanting to leave but also morbidly fascinated. “Uck. Yeah. Wow, that's nasty. And saccharine.”

 

“Right. I...just...try and finish up soon, okay? I have to make dinner yet.” He glanced around the kitchen and changed his mind. “Actually, you know what? I'm going to call for pizza. No, you can't put blood on your pizza, Dipper. You've apparently had enough for one day already. Clean up when you're done, all right?”

 

Two voices chorused “Yes, Henry,” rolling their eyes as they reached for the last vials.

 

Henry closed the door to the kitchen and leaned against it, rubbing his face and groaning. Stan took another drink and said, “Warned ya.”

 

 

(Lucy Ann did get her taste of demon blood, and acted a bit like the children on Smile Dip, though somewhat milder, a power boost she hadn't been prepared for, and it was agreed – demon blood was for emergencies, times when she needed a power boost, or to be cut with something else. Anything else was too dangerous – and annoying.)

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got to Henry in the kitchen and started hearing the Gothic Charm School Mistress in my head. “Napkins, dear child, Napkins!”
> 
> This one almost didn't get posted thanks to internet issues.


	121. Ah, Nets!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic Prompt: At some point, an urban legend crops up that a butterfly net can capture any entity that has wings and flies, regardless of how powerful said entity is. Some high school student decides to stress test this myth for an extra credit project, and chooses Alcor as his guinea pig.
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/159914974269/fic-prompt-at-some-point-an-urban-legend-crops

 

 

Dipper had barely finished materializing in the center of the circle, hadn't even begun his opening or fully gotten oriented, when the butterfly net came down over his head, settling around his chest.

 

He paused, crossing his arms under the hoop of the net. “...seriously? Seriously, what is this?”

 

The teenager on the other end of the butterfly net looked as though they were seriously reconsidering their life choices that led to this point.

 

Dipper glared at him, gripping the pole of the net and pulling it off his head, cursing quietly when it got caught on the tip of an ear and took his hat with it. He dug out his hat and settled it back into place, fiddling with it until it sat just right, his other hand still holding on to the net's pole.

 

Finally satisfied, he planted his free hand on his hip and glared at his summoner. “Well?”

 

“So...there's kind of an urban legend that says anything with wings or that can fly can get caught in butterfly nets no matter how strong there are so I was testing that?” the teen said hesitantly, still holding onto the net they both clutched as if it were some kind of protection against the demon.

 

“I...” Dipper paused, at a loss for words – but only for a moment. “What were you thinking? Do you have _any_ idea how bad this could have gone? I can't even, I...augh!” Dipper snapped his fingers, blue fire flaring around his hand and the teen's head. “Enjoy your nightmares. Alcor out.”

 

 

After he got home and shook himself, Dipper wondered briefly if he'd been to harsh on the kid.

 

Nah...he was old enough to know better, even if Dipper was steadfastly ignoring the things Mabel or the cool teens had done around the same age. A couple days of nightmares was fair.

 

 

Dipper had forgotten the incident. In the grand scheme of things, well, it wasn't the strangest urban legend he'd been summoned to test, and at least it hadn't been a *shudder* Twin Souls inspired 'ravishment' summons, so after looking up the urban legend briefly online he'd let the whole thing go.

 

 

Dipper materialized inside the summoning circle, already intoning his opening line, which was already becoming far too routine.

 

He paused, waiting for a response, but was greeted only with silence. Frowning, he glanced around the room, and found it seemingly devoid of mortal life.

 

“Oh, you did not just ding-dong-ditch me...” he grumbled. An ear pricked, flicking as he heard the scrape of a shoe on stone, trying so hard to be quiet, and he twisted to look, a net whipping past in the instant he moved.

 

Dipper yelped, a thoroughly undignified noise, in surprise. His eyes narrowed as he recognized the teenager from before, with a bigger butterfly net and a look of determination on their face.

 

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me...” Dipper groaned before dodging the net a second time, slipping out of the circle. “Kid, what the hell?”

 

“I'm sorry,” the kid yelped as Dipper dodged again, glaring at him, “but I gotta find out if this is true!”

 

“You could just ask!” Dipper snapped, flying away from another swing of the net, keenly aware of how ridiculous they looked, a teenager chasing a demon around a basement with an oversized butterfly net. “It wouldn't have cost much! And it would have been safer than this!”

 

The net flipped over his head, this time big enough that the hoop settled around his hips, tangling his wings in the mesh. “Oh, now this is just ridiculous,” Dipper muttered. He moved to pull of the net and paused when it stayed in place, refusing to move. “Oh you have got to be kidding me. It is not stuck, don't even tell me it's stuck.”

 

The teen, meanwhile, was frozen, holding the net firmly in place not because they wanted to trap Alcor but because they couldn't make themselves move.

 

“It...it works?” they breathed. “It works!”

 

“Yeah, yeah, hurray for you,” Dipper said sourly, squirming and wriggling as he tried to work his way out from under the net, cursing as the occasional string tangled on a button or ear or stuck to him. “Ugh, it's as bad as the dreamcatchers...” he mumbled.

 

“I...um...oh gosh...”

 

Dipper glanced out through the net's mesh. “You didn't have any plan beyond trying to catch me, did you?” he asked dryly. “Or what to do if it worked. Did you have any clue what you'd do if it didn't? Or for when I get out of here?”

 

“Um...no?” The teen answered, hands gone white around the net's pole. “Um...I'll help you out of there if you promise to not hurt me?”

 

Dipper paused, pinning the kid with a sharp golden glare. “You are going to help me out of this thing,” he said, “and you aren't going to try this again. Oh, and you aren't going to tell anyone about this. And in exchange, I won't hurt you. But you are so _fucking_ lucky you called on me and I have a sense of humor and I'm not going to overreact. If you'd called up a different demon you'd be dead already, you understand? And if you tell anyone about this, you'll regret it. Clear?”

 

The teen's head nodded so fast and hard Dipper thought for a split second they might nod it right off. Then they dropped the net's handle and started helping Dipper out of the net, jumping each time their hands brushed against Dipper, until the net was clear of the demon and he'd retrieved his hat (again).

 

He settled the hat in place with a flourish before pointing at the teen. “No. More. Nets,” he reminded them firmly. “You're gonna get yourself mauled, kid.”

 

The teen nodded, rapid and relieved and still mildly terrified, and Dipper disappeared, satisfied.

 

 

A month later he was summoned and immediately tangled in the dreamcatcher that had been laid over the circle.

 

Dipper froze, and then his eyes landed on a familiar person on the other side of the circle.

 

“So...anything associated with sleep and dreamcatchers...?” they said, tapping their fingers nervously.

 

Dipper's cursing left permanent scorch marks on the walls.

 

 


	122. Powers and Triggers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Powers and Trigger and their agency forgot about the Pines...but the Pines didn't forget about them. So what happens if they have to summon Alcor sometime after the Transcendence?
> 
> (Please note, this is going along with canon as if the Transcendence happened sometime during Weirdmaggeddon.)

The smoke cleared from the circle, and agents of the U.S. Government Powers and Trigger were left staring at an empty circle.

 

Again.

 

After having gotten nothing out of their deal.

 

For an agency that was supposed to investigate the strange and unusual, they were having a great deal of difficulty with the new world – and gaining more information was proving exceedingly difficult.

 

No one wanted to talk to the government. It had been true before the Transcendence, as it was coming to be called, and it was even more difficult after, as the newest citizens (most of whom needed social security numbers, and to be entered into the system, and there was so much red tape about whether or not they were citizens, considering they had been born here but hadn't been known before so technically they fit the first criteria for citizenship but there was so much resistance) didn't trust humans all that much yet as a whole.

 

Demons, it seemed, weren't interested in being citizens, but they were the only ones who might have known something, so long as they were given something in return. Cold, clean, clear cut. In theory. The blood didn't hold that theory up, and they weren't getting any clear information out of the demons that answered.

 

Well, Powers and Trigger were going to try the last one on their list before going home for the day, as there were going to be problems if they didn't try them all. This one was new, so a fresh demon might have less experience at deals and let them get a bit more out of it, even if it was already alarmingly powerful.

 

It wasn't routine. They would make it routine.

 

So all the messy parts of a summoning, the parts that weren't orderly, were made orderly. Blood in a vial and not in a struggling animal, clean printed lines of a summoning chant read out briskly, like dialing a number, and then wait.

 

And just like dialing a number, an answer came, in the form of smoke that coalesced in the center of the circle, forming into the shape of the demon, wisping away to reveal the demon's form.

 

Demon and agents stared at each other for an indeterminate amount of time after the demon's thunderous opening statement, a time that could have been anything from seconds to hours, the agents impassive and the demon's face carefully blank.

 

Then recognition passed behind the demon's eyes, and the mask snapped.

 

“ _ You _ ,” he snarled, “I͘...how̡ da̕r͢e y͜ou͝!͢” The demon's face contorted, lips peeling back to reveal teeth that were almost like a human's that had just started to go sharp, a canine still growing in sharper than the rest. “ You ̸co҉u͟ld̷ ͞h͝ave̷ h͠e͞lp̧ed͝!̛ ͏Yo̧u c̨ould͏ hąve ̢s͘t̶op̴p̕ed̡ ͝th͏i̸s̨!͘ ̛H͝o̧w ͏d̛a̢re ͢y̡ou ̢c͜a͟l͢l̵ ơn̡ ̨me̸ no̷w͢, af̨t͝er̛ i͞t's҉ a͡l̸l o͜v͢e̕r! ”

 

The agents fought not to step back, away from the blistering heat of a demon's anger, from the demon who looked terrifyingly human, but who was turning a featureless void black, eyes solid gold and leaving gold trails in the air each time he moved. 

 

“ Ho̧w͝͞ ̶̶͟d̷͘a̷̴r̶̢͢e y̨̢o̸͡u̸̕ ̨͜c̡͟a͏̛͡l̢̧l҉҉ ͏̕o͜͝n͡ ̶m̵ę͞ ̷̷n̨ow̨͜͢,̷ ͏̵w̷he͘n̡͜ ̛I ͝am̛ ͡ _ th̨is̷͞ _ !̶̨  ” the demon screamed, and screens in the observation room shattered, the walls bled, the ground under their feet shook and buckled like a storm at sea. The two government agents had to fight to keep their feet, the floor ready to topple them at an instant. Then Trigger stumbled against the wall, rearing away from the blood that coated it, that clung wet and hot to his suit and hands, as Powers lost his balance and landed on the floor, unable to rise as the floor rocked and bucked underfoot.

 

Inside the circle, the demon was a humanoid black mass, parts of it flickering and pixelated, gold lines like the mortar of brickwork crawling across it, golden eyes closed but mouth open, golden light pouring out around the two rows of suddenly serrated, offset teeth.

 

It continued to scream, accusations and anger, demands to know why they didn't help when given the chance, why had they clung to their petty worries and concerns when the world had been at stake and why weren't the backups kicking in, where was the holy water they'd been promised was in the sprinklers, where was their backup  _ where were the backups they were promised why wasn't anything stopping the demon _ .

 

There was a final screech that would leave both agents deaf for nearly a week before the demon disappeared, the time on the summon finally up (there hadn't been a sacrifice proper, nor a deal, he hadn't had that long had had too long what had just happened) and the two agents were left alone, the room coated in blood, floor tiles shattered and the floor broken and left with spots where the concrete had buckled, the solid foot of concrete cracked like plaster, leaving hills and valleys, and shattered glass scattering what was left of the floor.

 

Neither agent knew just what they had done to that demon to make him react that way, but neither would ever agree to be part of summoning a demon again, would go on to propose legislation to make it illegal, the first law of its kind.

 

Anything to keep them from encountering Alcor ever again.

 


	123. Taming the Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the asks requesting crocodile-hunter style shows that began after the Transcendence. We have another running set of chapters beginning.

It took decades after the Transcendence, hundreds of protests and rallies and years of mistrust and worse on both sides before non-human folk could finally force governments into accepting that they were people.

 

It was a slow process when everyone involved on one side was (apparently) human, when one side wasn't, and had magic, and powers, and things the government wanted, could use, had people clamoring to experiment on...it made things take longer.

 

Thankfully, magic and powers and teeth and claws could go a long way towards convincing people to leave you alone, and knowing how to twist words and influence people went even farther in the world of politics.

 

 

Politics were one thing – formal rights and dignities. They were _important_. But so were words.

 

And after the Transcendence, apart from in some areas that already skirted the line between the fae and the mundane, where the supernatural had been part of daily life (if unseen), the words were not kind.

 

Few would have thought about it like that, the power that their words had, though some did, or the power the media and its 'mindless' entertainment held.

 

So when most of the shows that began around that time sought to exploit the new world around them, became things like _Gnome Manor_ and _Walking With Werewolves_ and _Super Search_ , it was easier to de-humanize, to exploit, the new people that had been brought to light.

 

 

Dr. James Gallucio's _Behind the Myths_ was a latecomer to the field of paranormal shows, but it was one of the few reputable ones.

 

He, at least, showed respect to the myths and people he was examining, treated them with caution and evolved his attitudes as he learned more about the paranormal despite a somewhat rocky start.

 

And, up until _Behind the Myths: Gravity Falls_ , the show hadn't followed the myths it discussed around like they were animals or shown much footage of them – and even then, it was interviews, respectful and with actual information.

 

The precursors, while better than things like _Gnome Manor_ (where the gnomes were followed and filmed, their interactions with humans scripted and edited to make them look even more violent, more unpredictable, trashier, than reality), were...entertaining, there was little respect involved.

 

What little respect there was in the shows was the same as the respect one showed a shark or tiger – a predator that could kill you with ease if provoked.

 

Which was a little insulting when the person being observed was, say, a mom at the grocery store, just trying to get this week's food while wrangling her kids and would prefer to just get this over with.

 

Though perhaps not totally an unsuitable comparison when the kids were being observed. Good mothers of all species could be more than a bit protective.

 

 

Quite a few shows tried to make the cross over from “normal” animals to the paranormal. Not many were able to successfully make the transition. Most returned to watching animals, which were predictable and not morally and ethically questionable to follow around, and the ones that survived (in show business, not literally...though there may have been a few...incidents) were mainly those who had started fresh.

 

The most reputable ones left the paranormal community alone, until they could figure out who was sentient and sapient, who (or what) was acceptable to film versus interview.

 

_Taming The Wild_ didn't worry so much about that. The producers wouldn't call themselves Pro-Nats, exactly – rather the opposite. They would claim they had no problem with preternaturals...by which they meant those who looked and acted human, or went out of their way to conform to human standards.

 

Which...left a lot of supernatural species as fair game for their show, as they thought of them as animals in human disguise.

 

And really, the things they started with? Who could think of things like gnomes, like unicorns, like manticores, like kelpie, as anything other than animals?

 

It was a good thing they had a 'no interference' policy and tried not to interact with the creatures they were observing, especially in the case of the kelpie. Someone had already lost a hand to the beasts, though it was better that than their lives.

 

The reactions of those they were observing generally varied, depending on species, temperament, and if they were more human or animal.

 

Usually, though, the episodes ended with them all getting chased off by whatever they had been filming.

 

They were already banned from fifty cities, three hundred and twenty six grocery stores, and twelve Wal-marts.

 

Apparently, being chased by a furious were-mom after filming (stalking, according to the police) her children for a few weeks was enough for even a big box store to kick you out.

 

Kurt Willner, main showrunner and star of _Taming The Wild_ , didn't care. It was attention, and attention drew controversy, and controversy drew ratings.

 

The werewolf episode was highly rated, either way, so it was all worth it.

 

 

The rusalka episode, which they got in ridiculous amounts of trouble for over its opening, featuring the singing of the rusalka they had been trailing (and apparently almost hypnotizing quite a few of the young men who had been watching) was also one of their most watched and controversial episodes.

 

Quite a few people apparently enjoyed watching them nearly be drowned by the irritated rusalka.

 

 

_Taming The Wild_ was the longest running of the wildlife-styled shows, one of the few that managed to stay on air despite controversy and increasing preternatural rights.

 

But by now, Kurt wanted a new challenge.

 

He wanted to go to the heart of it all, where the largest population of wildlife masquerading as humans lived.

 

Gravity Falls.

 

If that stuffy know-it-all Gallucio and his pretentious _Behind the Myths_ could film there, why not _Taming The Wild_? Sure, they'd been turned down a few times, but Kurt brushed that off.

 

The silly people of the town obviously didn't know what was good for them. Somebody had to go in and document these things properly, get in on the ground level and watch them, not talk to them and act like they actually understood what was going on.

 

And to think, he'd once thought Gallucio had a clue about what he was doing. Obviously there was something in the water at Gravity Falls that made people turn sentimental.

 

Well, Kurt wasn't going to fall for any of that mushy rubbish.

 

And maybe...if he timed it right and hit hard and fast, before anyone realized he was there...maybe he could get footage of the most elusive and dangerous creature of all.

 

The Dream Bender called Gravity Falls home, didn't he...?

 

 

Dr. James Gallucio – Jamie to his friends in Gravity Falls – sighed in exasperation and leaned back in his chair.

 

On the whole, he tried to be patient with everyone, and though sometimes he was pretty well tested, in general he was. Nerves and shyness helped with that, but still. He tried.

 

But there was something about Kurt Willner that irritated the ever loving hell out of him.

 

Probably the arrogance. Or maybe the lack of concern for the thoughts and feelings of others. Or the way he tended to bulldoze everyone in his path to get his way. Or how he regarded anyone not like him to be some sort of sub-species of human, and non-humans as nothing more than animals.

 

...most of that tied back to the arrogance, to be fair. Which Jamie wasn't feeling like being right now. Kurt was...he was like a frat boy that had never finished growing up, and Jamie had always avoided that part of campus for a reason.

 

Why would Kurt bring _Taming The Wild_ to Gravity Falls, of all places? He wasn't interested in truth, or in learning, just in sensationalism. Kurt could claim to be 'the David Attenborough of the Supernatural' all he wanted, Attenborough never chased sentient creatures through a Wal-Mart!

 

Jamie didn't want to think about the chaos Kurt was going to cause here in Gravity Falls...he didn't want to think about all the chaos, the frightened people Kurt had already left behind.

 

Most people here, as Jamie had found during his interviews (and, more strongly, just by living here and being open to befriend people after he decided he wanted to stay and got in with the Pines family), were proud of who and what they were, perfectly willing to defend themselves and each other, and so likely to be irritated but otherwise unbothered by Kurt and his stalking.

 

Most of them, save the people who had come here for _sanctuary,_ something that was going to be destroyed by someone as heavy-handed as Kurt Willner.

 

With everything Jamie had learned about this town and the people here...at least he had come intending to be respectful. It was probably why he'd fit in here so well. _Taming The Wild_ was an exploitative piece of trash posing as educational television, and the people here didn't deserve to be put through the filming of that.

 

But Jamie couldn't really stop him...but maybe...maybe he had been spending too much time with the Pines family, because he'd never been good at standing up for himself or others, but this time...

 

With a little help...

 

Jamie pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, tapping nervously at his desk until the other phone picked up.

 

“Hey, Mabel? Have you ever heard of a show called _Taming The Wild_...?”

 

 

Jamie was in the middle of filming a batch of pixies – with their permission and full knowledge, though he wasn't above the odd candid shot even now, though those had to be cleared later with the subjects – when a heavy hand came down on his shoulder.

 

Jamie squeaked and jumped, sending the pixies scattering into the trees. From behind him came Kurt's obnoxious laughter, and Jamie rolled his eyes while Kurt still couldn't see him do it before turning.

 

“Hello, Kurt,” he said evenly. “You're earlier than expected.”

 

Kurt grinned, that showman's grin that irritated Jamie so much, and silently Jamie was grateful he'd warned the Pines ahead of time. Kurt and Stan working together was a worrying prospect.

 

Sometimes, it was hard to tell just where the line was for Stan. Though on the other hand, watching Stan con Kurt was going to be hilarious...Jamie hoped.

 

He felt a little bad about setting Kurt up like that, but...luckily for Jamie's peace of mind, Kurt took the opportunity to open his mouth.

 

“Thought I'd find you out here. Why you wasting time with these little leaf munchers? Bigger fish to fry out there in town, I though everyone decided those things are just pests? Why waste film when there's so many species around here? Or did you really lose your touch so much you're gonna film cockroaches next?”

 

Jamie took a deep breath, fighting the urge to face palm. “I...yes, there are many different species in Gravity Falls,” he finally replied, sticking to the plain truth.

 

Kurt nudged Jamie's ribs – at least, he would have claimed it was a nudge, but Jamie felt like he was nearly toppled from it, and it was definitely not friendly as it seemed. “Don't hold out on me,” Kurt warned. “This is where that demon lives, ain't it? Why haven't you put out about him yet?”

 

“These things are sensitive,” James said patiently, fiddling with his camera. “We have to be careful about what makes it to the air, and make sure everything is approved first, and...”

 

Kurt's rude noise cut Jamie off as he slung his arm over Jamie's shoulders. “Ugh, you're so dull!” he exclaimed. “Come on, where's the thrill of the hunt? The excitement? We're in Gravity Falls, home of the Dreambender, and you haven't even tried to film him yet? What a wuss, come on man!”

 

“Exactly, he's _the Dreambender_ ,” Jamie replied, ducking out from under Kurt's arm. “The most powerful demon in the world. Do you really think he's going to react nicely when he finds you following him around and filming him without so much as a by-your-leave?”

 

Kurt barked out a laugh, slapping Jamie on the back. “If I refused to film things because they might get mad, I wouldn't have a show,” he crowed. “You're always wussing out on things. It's not worth it without the danger! Be a man!”

 

That was a bit unfair, Jamie felt. He'd been researching demons and summoning them while Kurt was still running from swan maidens (which he'd fully deserved, Jamie felt – what did he expect, hitting on them like that? Either they were human or weren't, couldn't Kurt even keep his own racism straight?). Jamie had spent the night in the Tower of London, gone diving in haunted caves...sure, he was a nerd, but he'd come to terms with that, and he was an active nerd, dammit. And his show had gone from being sensationalist back to being respected while keeping its ratings, thank you very much.

 

And he had friends now who were even more into all of this than he was.

 

Kurt crouched slightly, the arm around Jamie's shoulders sliding up around his neck and forcing him to crouch too, with more flailing, and Jamie was pretty sure he heard a pixie giggling at him.

 

“Just watch,” Kurt said, gesturing expansively. “I'm going straight for the big one. I'm not wasting my time with the little things this time. I'm going straight for the Dreambender.”

 

“I can't wait,” James said honestly.

 

This was going to be...interesting.

 

...it was wrong to hope Dipper would bite him, right? ...yeah, probably.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked part one! Not sure when more of them will be done, but I've got more being written.


	124. Taming the Wild Pt 2

Dipper looked down at the video in his hands, turning it over and over in obvious confusion. “Jamie...how did you even get this?”

 

Jamie shrugged nonchalantly, though his cheeks were dusted with pink and he was fiddling with his glasses. “Kurt might...be trying to brag,” he said, free hand gesturing vaguely. “That he, you know, managed to make an episode about Gravity Falls before I did? Even though I've been here longer? And wanted to rub it in?”

 

“And he just...gave you the video he made?” Dipper asked incredulously. “Of the unaired episode? Of the show he made that he thinks is competing with yours?”

 

“Well, just a copy,” Jamie modified. “I just...he was bragging about getting 'the Dreambender' on film, so I figured all of you should watch it with me, and see just what he's planning on before this gets out. Sort of...ah...early damage control? I didn't watch it yet, I don't know just what he saw. He doesn't do the research I do, so he pumps out episodes faster, but...and he can be pretty arrogant about the quality of what he does.”

 

“The big problem is if he found out names or how we're all related,” Dipper said honestly. “I...if he found out mine it would be a problem and no mistake but...if they find out about Mabel and everyone else...”

 

“Let's just watch, yeah? And worry after,” Jamie said, wilting when Dipper looked at him. “I...might have already been worrying about it for a few hours? And maybe panicking? Just a little?”

 

“...yeah, you get the notebooks and popcorn and I'll round up everybody else,” Dipper said.

 

* * *

 

The living room at the Shack was packed full. The triplets and their Aunts Wendy, Grenda, and Candy had arraigned themselves on the floor, while Stan sprawled in his recliner. Pacifica had dropped by, back in town for the weekend, and claimed the newest armchair after fastidiously brushing it off. Mabel, Henry, and James took the couch while Dipper hovered overhead.

 

All of the adults were equipped with notebooks and pens alongside the various snacks and drinks Mabel and Henry had provided, and James had a bad feeling Pacifica was perfectly willing to use the cell phone on the table nearby to call her lawyer, should things go wrong.

 

“Everyone braced?” Jamie asked.

 

“Bring it on!” Mabel cheered, to Henry's mild, “That's right in my ear, honey.”

 

Taking a deep breath, Jamie slid the tape into the machine.

 

* * *

 

There was a brief moment of static before the logo for Taming The Wild appeared on the screen, the show's opening playing out before cutting abruptly to footage.

 

Eyes turned to Jamie, who shrugged. “It's still a rough cut,” he said by way of explanation. “It'll get cleaned up after Kurt sends it off.”

 

Answer accepted, they all turned back to the screen.

 

The video wobbled for a moment before it settled, showing scenes of Gravity Falls, desaturated and grainy, as the camera zoomed in or tilted. It was, frankly, dizzying and poorly done.

 

Kurt's voice came over the speakers, smug and pompus. _“Gravity Falls. From the outside, it looks like a typical small town. But underneath the idyllic exterior lies a HEART of DARKNESS.”_ (Mabel, Wendy, and the girls cackled while Henry, Pacifica, Dipper, and James face palmed and Stan sputtered.) _“On this special series of Taming The Wild , we will be going undercover”_ (“He was as undercover as the host of a documentary,” Wendy commented. “I think everyone in town saw him. No, wait, everyone in town avoided him.”

 

“Subtly isn't Kurt's strongest suit,” Jamie agreed.) “ _in this deceptive town to uncover its darkest secrets, starting with the biggest, most powerful of them all: ALCOR THE DREAMBENDER.”_

 

“I didn't notice anyone hanging around the Shack,” Dipper said, wings flicking furiously.

 

“All the customers around, they likely blended in,” Candy commented, glancing up at the demon. “They cannot all be as bad at it as he is, or show would have been canceled by now.”

 

“A full camera crew?” Dipper asked disbelievingly, only for the two of them to be shushed, and he crossed his arms and sulked for a moment before his attention was drawn back to the TV.

 

“ _For the safety of ourselves and our viewers, we will be censoring names and identifying signs.”_

 

“Yeah, he knows something,” came the chorus, and notes were made in three books to look into it later.

 

“Or he didn't figure out anything and he's covering it up,” Jamie said, flushing and shrugging under the looks thrown his way. “It'd be like him to pretend to know more than he does, that's how he usually does it.”

 

On screen, the Pines Memorial Library came into view, though the sign was blurred out in a nod to Kurt's statement. Not that it helped much as the Library was a fairly distinctive building.

 

“ _There are many famous citizens that reside in Gravity Falls, but none are more famous than the Pines and their allies. Yet this was still a surprise”._

 

The camera zoomed in, closer and closer to the back porch of the building, the family entrance, and every adult in the room bristled at the violation of privacy.

 

On the porch, in a beam of sunlight, lay a young man in formal wear, curled up like a cat. “ _Here we see, improbably, Alcor the Dreambender, somehow physical and, even more improbably, curled up for what appears to be a nap in the sunshine. His comfort here indicates that this is part of his territory, as Gravity Falls is rumored to be, perhaps even even his home den, as it were.”_

 

One of the demon's pointed ears twitched in his sleep. It twitched again, twice in quick succession, before he yawned, mouth opening wider than humanly possible, looking like a cat with his sharp teeth and wide yawn, though the forked tongue ruined the illusion.

 

He blinked sleepily up at the sun before planting curled, gloved hands on the porch and arching his back, stretching like the cat he still vaguely resembled. (“Oh my gosh how stoned are you?” Pacifica laughed, and Dipper looked away, ears and cheeks red, steam coming out his ears.)

 

“ _Remarkable. Never before has a demon been captured on film so relaxed. Still, mustn't let our guards down. Demons are dangerous, unpredictable creatures, though it's hard to tell, watching this one so off his guard, a docile facade.”_ (“Who does this guy think he's foolin'? Attenborough he ain't,” Stan grumbled, “Has he even seen any demon but the kid?” as Dipper hid his face and grumbled as Mabel, Pacifica, and Wendy cackled, and he knew jokes about his 'docile facade' were coming.)

 

The door slammed open and three tiny, redheaded children piled onto the back porch onto the demon, laughing and clamoring for pancakes, crawling all over him.

 

“ _Oh dear, this can't be good...”_

 

Said demon made a noise somewhere between a growl and a purr, rolling over and sending the children tumbling, laughing and popping back up seconds later to pile atop the demon again.

 

A tall, redheaded man came onto the porch, leaning against the doorway and watching as the children climbed over the demon.

 

“ _Remarkable. What is it about this demon that makes him tolerate the children rather than devouring them?”_

 

This time, Alcor scooped the children up and floated into an upright position, lazily floating into the house.

 

“ _Hurry, we have to follow them, we can't lose any of this footage!”_ Kurt's voice was a rushed command, very different from the soothing yet pompus tones he had been trying to speak in during the show footage they would be showing.

 

The camera view shook and bounced as whoever held it worked to get into a position to see into the house. Zooming and a dangerously close position finally yielded results through a window.

 

(“NO, Stan,” Henry said sternly.

 

“I'm just sayin', kids are old enough to avoid a few booby traps, and they'd have it coming,” Stan grumped.)

 

Inside, the Dread Demon Alcor was...stirring up a batch of pancakes while an apron, bearing a silly, cartoonish koala and the words “I'm Over Koala-fied!!!” protected his suit.

 

The children were still trying to climb over him, though they scattered for plates, silverware, and condiments at a word from the demon.

 

Kurt was noticeably silent, until his voice hissed, “ _I'll dub it later, what the hell is even happening? This doesn't make any damn sense!_ ”

 

A short brunette woman came into the kitchen, smiling and draping herself across Alcor's back. She ruffled his hair, locking an arm around his neck to hold him in place and ignoring the demon's complaints and protests, before hurrying to help the kids.

 

The tall redhead was finishing the setup and disappeared into the house, returning with an older man in tow, and they all sat down to eat.

 

Kurt cleared his throat several times before speaking. _“Ah. Um...Remarkable. It seems they have some sort of longstanding deal with Alcor, allowing him to interact with them in exchange for food and companionship. Um. Look up later if demons might even be motivated by companionship, obviously they like food, but I've never heard of one eating pancakes before. Make a note, see if we can find out where and who Mizar is. Fuck this, let's get out of here before they notice, if they're willing to hug the demon who know what else they're willing to do.”_

 

(“First smart move of the day,” Pacifica noted dryly, still writing in her notebook. Jamie almost dreaded to see what was in it.)

 

The image cut to static, the screen going blank for almost a full thirty seconds before it opened again, in town.

 

“ _Remarkably,”_ (“He keeps using that word. I don't think it means what he thinks it means,” Henry quipped, receiving a high five from his wife and general murmurs of agreement on how annoying it was from the other viewers.) _“the people of Gravity Falls seem oblivious to the demon in their midst.”_

 

Onscreen, the people of Gravity Falls were going about their days, and Alcor was among them, floating along the sidewalk, a terrifying, unknown creature that strangely resembled a sheep trotting at his side. The creature was wearing saddlebags and Alcor was holding a list, one he referred to before he and the creature disappeared inside the grocery store.

 

“ _It seems Mizar's influence is more profound than we believed, if she can compel the demon to do such menial things as her shopping. What? Yeah, we found out that brunette we saw was Mizar, would you keep up? Ugh, now we have to cut a bunch of this. Right. No, keep filming, I don't want to miss him leaving!”_

 

(“HOW did I miss this?” Dipper nearly wailed, flinging up his arms, notepad and pen floating in midair. “Seriously!” His eyes narrowed, and he glared at the screen. “Also, we're going to have to do something about him. He knows too much.”)

 

Alcor exited the grocery store, creature still by his side, though the bulging saddlebags hinted at a successful shopping trip. People greeted the demon as he passed, as if it were absolutely normal for a demon to be floating down the street.

 

“ _This is...this is unprecedented. Amazing. What kind of town is this, that they're so comfortable with a demon?_

 

A sigh, and then _“Yes I know this is Gravity Falls, but still. Even they should have some standards! No, don't stop, we have to follow him!”_

 

Static again, and a cut back to the Shack, and Alcor was outside, floating while he raked up leaves. _“It would seem that, unlike many creatures in the animal kingdom, Mizar establishes her dominance by forcing Alcor to do domestic tasks around the home they share.”_

 

There was a pause, the camera still trained on the floating demon as he paused, looking at the rake in his gloved hands. As he looked back towards the house and snapped his fingers, conjuring up a tiny tornado that began sucking up the leaves (“I knew you cheated, Dipper!” Mabel crowed.), Kurt hissed, _“Well what explanation do you give it, Bob? Because I see a demon doing manual chores and there's no good explanation for that! Yes, I see the tornado, but it's still cleaning up leaves! And it was cooking earlier!”_

 

Alcor made a shooing motion with his free hand and the tornado, filled with leaves, moved to the side of the yard and collapsed, the leaves falling into a tidy pile.

 

Mizar appeared in the doorway, grabbing Alcor around the neck and yanking him down for noogies as soon as he was close enough, to Alcor's verbal annoyance.

 

“Thanks for doing the yard, Ally-cat. Trips are having some homework problems upstairs, some kind of math junk. Help 'em out for dinner?”

 

“Don't call me that,” Alcor grumped. “And yeah, I'm on it.”

 

“ _And so we again see Mizar establishing her dominance over Alcor, this time in a physical show of dominance, an interesting development as it is fairly clear that in terms of raw power, Alcor is surely the more powerful of the two, yet Mizar dominates him with ease. Oh, this is ridiculous, why isn't he trying to eat her already?”_

 

(Mabel cackled and grabbed Dipper's ankle, yanking him down for another noogie, chanting “Alpha twin!” as Dipper squirmed and both men on the couch leaned out of the flail zone. She let him go a second later and Dipper huffily fixed his hair as Mabel sat back, grinning.)

 

Both demon and human disappeared back inside the house, and the screen faded to static.

 

It came back, still focused on the Library, and watched three children running about the yard while the demon sprawled on the porch, watching them.

 

_Once again, we see Mizar's dominance, and the strange weakness of the demon, that he watches her offspring without causing them harm – apparently keeping them from harm, in fact._

 

Suddenly, one of Alcor's ears twitched, and he sat up like a bolt. His strange eyes flitted around the clearing until they fastened on the camera. His eyes narrowed and he began to rise, claws bared, coming for the camera and crew.

 

_Shit! We've been seen! Move, move, move!_

 

The camera turned into the trees, bouncing and jiggling as Alcor leapt for them and the person holding it ran before going to static.

 

When it came back, the focus of the room was a small room, dark and lit by candles, draped in heavy fabric.

 

(Pacifica's eyes narrowed, and she leaned closer to the television. “Aha!” she exclaimed after a few seconds. “That's the motel, the cheap bed and breakfast one. They draped fabric over everything but I can still tell.” There was a pause, and she glared at everyone. “What? I can tell. ...it was a rough week, okay?” Collective winces and mutters of agreement met the defensive statement, and the set was somehow both hilarious and a bit sad now.

 

“Wait, no, he actually tried to do interviews,” Jamie groaned as Kurt's voice explained the same. “Pay attention, everybody, I'll bet this is where the really creative editing comes in.”)

 

The commentary died off as the interviews rolled, Lazy Susan and Manly Dan and Mayor Cutebiker and Sheriff Blubs and Toby Determined, replaced by the sound of pens scratching as notes were taken.

 

As the credits rolled, everyone stared at the television, their enjoyment of the ridiculousness of the show soured.

 

“So...how much would it cost for you to get a copy of the original footage?” Jamie asked, a little hesitant – the rest of the Pines 'family' may have casually made deals with Dipper that ranged from 'deals' to 'Deals', but he had yet to make on of those casual friend deals. “Because I have a feeling it was almost an entirely different show.”

 

“More importantly, how much is it going to cost to terrify this Kurt into using the real interviews instead of that pasted together insult?” Pacifica asked. “And that's the kind option, mind you. I may not have access to the entire Northwest fortune anymore, but I have enough to make sure he never makes another show again.”

 

Part of James wanted to protest against editing another person's show, but...Pacifica was right. The edited interviews were an insult, cut and pasted to make the people of Gravity Falls look foolish, to stupid to understand what was going on around them and only tolerant because of that lack of understanding or even worse, evil in and of themselves.

 

“Maybe it would be easier to just sneak the original interviews in and not tell anyone,” Jamie said, thinking it out. “I mean, it sets a bad precedent, but...”

 

“Would serve him right,” Mabel said firmly. “Well, bro?”

 

“The contents of Pacifica's deal freezer gets a copy of the real interviews, the real interviews stuck in the show right before it airs, and terrorizing Kurt,” Dipper declared. “He knows who Mizar is, I'm not letting that go.”

 

“Just terrorizing for now!” Jamie cut in quickly before Mabel and Dipper could shake on it. He shrugged when they turned to look at him, confidence grown after so much time in their company. “Well, I mean, people can change, right? He's been an idiot and an ass but that's not really enough for...for anything drastic. You could always follow through if he doesn't keep up his end.”

 

Jamie quailed a little under all the eyes on him but stayed firm. Finally Dipper rolled his eyes. “Fine. Maybe we'll get lucky and he'll make a real show about the town later, since you're taking your sweet time about it.”

 

Jamie groaned as he fell back on the couch. “Not you too! My producers are already on me about it!” he complained as everyone laughed. “Just...take care of this and I'll finish mine already.”

 

“It's a deal!”

 


	125. Taming the Wild Pt 3

Steve Cordawin had seen the episodes of both _Behind the Myth: Gravity Falls_ and _Taming The Wild_ (at least, the obviously heavily episode that had been released and then immediately pulled from the air) set in Gravity Falls. He had heard of the difficulties Kurt was having shooting any more episodes (or anything at all) in the small town after the disaster that was his first and about the lawsuit from Pacifica Northwest over the interviews he had planned to air that had somehow been replaced by the uncut versions at the last minute. He had heard of how Dr. Gallucio had so easily slid into the Falls like a missing puzzle piece, a fact reflected in the episodes of _Behind the Myths_ set in the town. Admittedly, the episodes didn't go in depth yet, but they showed a level of love and care beyond what even Dr. Gallucio usually allowed onto the screen.

 

And he wanted in. The ultimate challenge, an amazing adventure, and he would get to see what Dr. Gallucio was up to. No downsides!

 

Not even the demon – that was the most exciting aspect of all! A demon wandering around town, and everyone just...lived with it? It didn't want to attack and kill and cause chaos? It was unheard of, it was amazing, he wanted to know more and he wanted it on film!

 

And there were so many animals in Gravity Falls that didn't live anywhere else! ...Steve hoped they had a good hospital there, because he could see needing it quite a few times.

 

Grinning, Steve sent off a text to Dr. Gallucio, who he had in his contacts as a research option – with all the new supernatural creatures coming out of the woodwork, it was good to have someone around he could ask about them, and about which ones were sentient and which were actually animals, so he wouldn't go stalking people just trying to live their lives.

 

He sat back to wait...Dr. Gallucio was always slow to answer texts...with bouncing knee and filled with nerves. Waiting was the worst part.

 

* * *

 

In Gravity Falls, James Gallucio stared at his phone with mixed surprise and dismay.

 

Another show, wanting to shoot here? And asking him about how to get permission? Okay, so he understood the draw, it had brought him here in the first place, but seriously? Was everyone going to try and shoot at least one episode here?

 

Sighing, he tucked the phone into a pocket. He'd always been slow at answering messages, Cordawin would understand if he took a bit longer to respond to this one. It wasn't like it would be new behavior.

 

But he was going to have to think about this...and maybe get some opinions.

 

* * *

 

“I mean, Cordawin's always been pretty respectful,” James finished, leaning back in his booth at Greasy's. Across the table, Pacifica tapped at the screen of her phone, looking up Steve Cordawin on her own as James spoke. “He...I don't know, I think he kind of looks up to me a little? I never noticed before but somebody pointed it out to me once? I don't really talk to him all that much.”

 

“Well, he's certainly better than that Kurt was,” Pacifica said, finally looking up from her phone. “Though that's not saying much. Seriously, following people around as if they were animals...” she rolled her eyes expressively. “Did that episode ever get to air, by the way? I thought Dipper was pretty specific in his demands...”

 

Jamie snorted softly. “By the time Kurt edited out everything Dipper demanded he did, he really didn't have an episode anymore. They aired it once and pulled it right away. Word's been spreading, I think it's going to be awhile before he tries that again...his reputation's taken a big hit over it. People were pretty mad he was involving human kids. Too bad they couldn't get worked up over the other kids...and to be fair, I think Steve might have a similar idea about following Alcor around, though he wouldn't air anything involving kids without permission,” James felt compelled to point out. “Dipper is a demon, after all. And he doesn't act like demons are supposed to, so...”

 

“The worst part of that is worrying about identifying information getting out or getting the kids involved,” Pacficia said offhand. “Otherwise, it's pretty funny.”

 

Jamie was about to protest, when Pacifica gave him a look, and he stopped to consider. “Okay, so if it weren't for some of the other things going on, yeah, it was kinda funny,” he finally agreed.

 

He paused, fiddling with his coffee cup, absently doodling in the margins of his notebook. “I just...don't like the idea of my friends being followed around and stalked like animals,” he admitted. “I asked everyone I've dome pieces on, and I got the Pines to watch before I sent it off.”

 

“I liked it,” Pacifica said, “though if you tell anyone I'll deny watching except to be sure you're still behaving.”

 

James smiled at her fussing and hid it in his mug. Pacifica, as he had learned, could still be touchy. “I guess I'll let Steve know it's safe to come, then, if you'll warn the Pines?” he said. “I'm pretty sure Steve will listen to my advice, even if Kurt wouldn't...”

 

“Whether or not he uses it is another matter,” Pacifica finished for him. She shrugged a shoulder, gesturing vaguely with her free hand. “Eh. Better than what Willner tried. Good thing he decided to brag and gave you that tape.”

 

Jamie shrugged, a hint of a blush passing over his face. “He always did like to brag,” he said. “But I think we might have asked Dipper to try and get a copy if he hadn't. It just worked out better this way.”

 

“Well, I'm looking forward to your next episode,” Pacifica said diplomatically. “I wonder what this Steve is going to try when he gets here...”

 

* * *

 

Steve was practically bouncing with excitement. Wait, no, if the looks the other people in the van were giving him, he...yep. He was actually bouncing.

 

But still! He'd really thought that they would be denied permission to film in Gravity Falls after the disaster of _Taming the Wild_ , and he was pretty sure there were a few other documentary movies trying to get permission to come in and film, but Dr. James pulled a few strings and got them in!

 

And gave Steve some advice about getting along in Gravity Falls!

 

It was...this was going to be amazing!

 

* * *

 

The van had barely set up before Steve was grabbing at the nearest camera person who had their camera in hand and ran off towards the woods.

 

But he'd seen, on their trip through the town and the surrounding landmarks, what looked like the most famous demon in the world, and he wanted to find out – and maybe get some footage.

 

Along the way they had to stop as Steve marked down sightings of a small pack of Beard Cubs, a Leprecorn, a nesting pair of Cowls, and a Plaidypus. A group of gnomes crossed their path, too fast to capture on video, and Steve thought one of them may have made a rude gesture as it passed.

 

Apart from noting down what and where he saw, Steve didn't take much note of what he saw. Well, and to get more excited, as several of those species hadn't yet been found outside of Gravity Falls, but Steve wasn't going to let himself get distracted.

 

Steve vaguely remembered Dr. Gallucio giving him advice about the demon, but at the moment, it was forgotten under the excitement.

 

The cameraperson, Jesse, paused at the edge of the clearing behind the Library, the one that Steve guessed served as a backyard for the part of the Library that was still a home and housed the Pines family.

 

There, floating in the backyard, was the demon, just as Steve had though he'd seen on their way through. The Library had been near closing hours when Steve's tribe had stopped by earlier, so the demon must have felt safe coming out, now that the Library was closed and only citizens of Gravity Falls had a reason to stop by, Steve theorized.

 

Most of the theorizing was going to be done later, as Steve stopped to gaze upon the demon with awe.

 

“Start recording,” he whispered, nudging Jesse with an elbow. She shrugged and started up the camera. The demon, floating cross-legged in the sunshine of the backyard, looked almost like he was meditating, though an ear twitched when Steve whispered.

 

“We've just arrived in Gravity Falls,” Steve said lowly, and behind the camera, Jesse saw Alcor's ear twitch again in their direction, an eye cracking open and searching them out as Steve kept talking. “And we've already managed to catch sight of the demon Alcor, who calls this town his territory.”

 

Alcor heaved a sigh and began to unwind from his cross-legged position, pausing in shock at Steve's next words. “Oh, isn't he a _beauty!_ ”

 

To Jesse's surprise, Alcor's cheeks began to flame as Steve continued to praise him, the blush creeping up the pointed ears and down under the collar of his (admittedly, very sharp and dapper) suit. “Most demons don't bother with a human form, but this one's not only managed it, but done it well, nearly indistinguishable! And look at those wings!”

 

Still blushing but now, Jesse was sure, preening just a bit, Alcor obligingly stretched out a wing. Steve continued to gush over the demon, obviously forgetting or not caring that not only could Alcor obviously hear them but he understood every word, praising the sharpness of his teeth and claws, the velvet darkness of the wings, the flash of golden eyes.

 

Jesse just rolled her eyes behind the safety of her camera and kept rolling. Steve was always like this – the more deadly the creature, the more he lost his mind (and common sense) over it. At least this one he was keeping his distance from, and the demon was doing the same.

 

A woman opened the back door of the Library and Jesse lowered the camera as the demon looked over at the woman.

 

“Are you filming us?” she asked, voice carrying over the backyard, a sharp edge to it that made Jesse's hands tighten on the camera. Wouldn't be the first time someone thought they were filming them and got angry enough to go after the camera.

 

“He's not an animal! He's sentient and sapient, you know,” she was adding as she strode across the backyard, the brightly colored sweater, huge flower in her hair, and light up sneakers not diminishing how intimidating she was in that moment. “Did you make sure he was okay before you starting filming?”

 

Steve's mouth opened and closed a few times before he buried his face in his hands with a frustrated yell. “I did it again!” he said. “Again!” He took a deep breath and faced the demon, who was watching all this with something approaching concern. “I apologize for filming without your permission. I got carried away by enthusiasm again. It...happens to me a lot. If you want me to delete the footage...” he added, though it sounded almost physically painful to make the offer. “I mean, I'm not going to apologize for what I said 'cuz I meant every word but since I didn't ask...”

 

The woman and Alcor exchanged looks, and now that she wasn't ready to flee (still terrified of what the demon was going to demand, but not ready to run), Jesse did notice a few similarities between the two. Superficial, but they were there. It certainly seemed as if they were communicating wordlessly.

 

“You just got to town, didn't you?” the woman asked, waiting just long enough for Steve to nod before sticking out her arm. “Hi I'm Mabel and you've sort of met Alcor here and you must be Steve! Jamie told us you were coming!”

 

“J-Jamie? Oh, you mean Dr. Gallucio?” Steve said as Mabel pumped his hand, more hopeful by the moment as the demon still didn't take offense at being filmed and treated as...well, a bit like a big cat Steve had managed to catch off its guard.

 

“That's the one!” Mabel said cheerfully. “So, since he vouched for you, we're gonna give you the same dealio we have with him...sorta. You gotta earn some of it. But you go talk to Jamie before you do any more filming, okay? Jamie knows our rules about shooting stuff here in Gravity Falls.”

 

“Um, we did get permission from Mayor Cutebiker...?” Steve said, head tilting as he watched, and damn he wished he could have kept filming because Alcor was being fascinating right now but the demon wasn't an animal he could film even though so far the public opinion and legalities said they were close enough he didn't need to worry Steve was trying to be better than that even if he'd gone and put his foot right in it.

 

“Go talk to Jamie,” Mabel repeated. She was smiling, not unkindly, but there was an edge to it. “He'll set you straight and let you know the rules. Now shoo. You can come back and talk to us later, after you get set up _and talk to Jamie_.”

 

“Ah, right. Sorry again, I just...we'll just go find Dr. Gallucio now,” Steve said, beginning to back away.

 

“Don't delete that footage just yet,” Alcor finally said, the blush still painting his features. “Don't use it yet, but...we'll see.”

 

Steve perked up at that and hurried off, Jesse trailing along behind. She risked a glance back to see the woman teasing Alcor, of all things, and she was fairly sure she heard the word 'beauty' being tossed at the blushing demon, who now had steam rising from his ears as he trailed the woman back to the house.

 

Something was going on there...why on earth was the demon letting that woman, Mabel, tease him like that? Why was he solid, and listening?

 

Steve might not pay much attention to it, now that he'd been reminded the demon was someone to only film with his permission, but now Jesse's interest was piqued as much as Steve's, and she wanted to know.

 

* * *

 

James Gallucio was surprisingly grounded for someone who was so into the paramormal. Which basically meant that he'd learned how to look before running into things.

 

Not that he didn't still rush in and make himself look ridiculous, he just did research beforehand now...usually.

 

Still, he was more grounded now than the few times Steve had met him before, seemed happier and like he'd found a place to really call home.

 

Gravity Falls had changed him and for the better, and if there was any question of how much of a Faller Dr. Gallucio now was, it was dispelled in minutes as he accepted what Steve told him, including their encounter with the Dreambender, easily if with some worry over just what Steve had recorded and what he'd done with the footage.

 

James didn't interrupt until Steve started describing their encounter with Alcor. “You called him what, again?” he asked, standing and starting to pace.

 

“Um...a beauty?” Steve said, suddenly nervous, glancing over to Jesse for backup.

 

She rolled her eyes and confirmed it. “Oh, and he complimented Alcor's eyes, and wings, and claws, and...I have the whole thing on tape.”

 

James covered his mouth with his hand, covering a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, and a low, “Oh, the ladies are going to have a field day with this...What happened after that?” he asked louder.

 

He resumed his nervous pacing while Steve recounted the rest, pausing to ask, “You're sure he said it was okay? To keep it? Just keep it, not use it yet?”

 

Steve nodded emphatically and James finally relaxed a bit. “Well, I guess you got the first bit of approval,” he said, sitting down heavily in the nearest chair. His hands reached out and picked up the camera on the table next to him, absently fiddling with it. “The Pines are really protective of this town, and Alcor. And he's protective right back. And they're all honestly really frightening when they get angry. You'd think Alcor would be the worst, but sometimes the Pines are even worse. And Pacficia? She'll ruin you if you hurt her town. I mean, it's kind of reassuring when you're on the inside, but you'd better tread careful yet. That was like...like the pop quiz? And they're waiting to see how you do on the final. You know, the show you were going to ship out to the producers. Alcor will get his hands on it, somehow, and watch it. I just hand mine over, it's easier and I...well, I kind of like the feedback. Lets me know when I screwed up or something. It's just...really nice.”

 

He glanced up at Steve, smiling faintly. “So, uh, what did you have in mind for your first show here? Did you need to go over the rules again?”

 

Steve brightened, ideas and concerns and words bubbling over, and Jesse rolled her eyes and headed outside.

 

Now that Steve was closed up with one of his idols and they both were jabbering on, it was going to be hours before any work got done.

 

This was going to be a long series.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so technically it's not Taming the Wild anymore, but it's the same prompt, and titles are hard.
> 
> Also, it may be obvious now, but after a year and a half of posting a fic a week, I gotta call that quits. Fortnightly is what I'm aiming for - I have too many things going on to keep cranking them out fast enough for weekly. We'll see how it all turns out.


	126. Taming the Wild Pt 4

It took a few months for Steve to finish shooting the first season of his show.

 

He worked faster than James, a bit sloppier, but then again, he was focused on animal life, not the paranormal, and his enthusiasm tended to get the better of him. The Beard Cubs, the Leprecorn, the nesting pair of Cowls, the Plaidypus he'd seen when they first came to the Falls, those were recorded, talked about in depth and handled if possible, but not the gnomes, who weren't animals, despite the arguments for and against.

 

If they could talk to him and make those rude gestures, fully aware of what they meant, then they were off limits so far as Steve was concerned, though his producers pushed. He wanted to record animals, the new and wild that had come into public knowledge, not the sentient beings who had unwillingly revealed their existence to the world, even if he did get carried away with his recording at time.

 

He had the scars to prove it. Then again, so did Dr. Gallucio, for all his nerdery, and comparing scars was an entertaining way to spend an evening.

 

And then there was Alcor.

 

The demon was a big draw for the town, Steve wasn't going to lie. But demons were that line...too inhuman to be taped and interviewed, too intelligent and sapient, too sentient, to be filmed without their knowledge.

 

Thankfully, Alcor had a sense of humor. And when the pressure was on, to film and tag him (as several government agencies and research groups had been trying to do to demons, to understand how many there were, when so many of them could change their shape, when they were so dangerous and they knew so little)...well.

 

Filming was one thing, but tagging a demon was something else altogether.

 

Dr. Gallucio made it clear from the onset – he was not helping in this, save to, perhaps, referee, as both sides trusted him. In fact, he was one of the people off to the side enjoying the show...or trying to, at least, since both sides also came to him to either complain, brag, or get advice – sometimes advice on plans, and sometimes, to make sure boundaries were still being respected.

 

Of course, with Steve's general enthusiasm, the last one was sometimes harder to maintain than would be expected...but it was all just so exciting!

 

Especially when Alcor was so amazing and at least they caught Steve's impulsive monologue about Alcor's 'impressive wingspan' on camera, complete with the ill-advised and firm yet gentle tug of Alcor's wing to pull it to said impressive span...as well as the scandalized expression on Alcor's face when Steve pulled that particular maneuver.

 

Really, Steve reflected later, he was lucky Alcor was being so patient with him, even if it was only for James' sake. He could have lost a hand for that, at the least!

 

Everyone else seemed to think it was pretty funny, which probably helped Steve keep his hands. A lot of this was probably going to have to be cut during editing, though Steve would be sad to see it go.

 

He was getting a lot of footage of the actual flora and fauna of the Falls, so the footage with Alcor was being saved up, to go over with the actual demon and his family (which was a terrifying thought, and although Steve did tend to lose his mind around the demon, he'd already pleaded with James to do the screening instead of him, so there would be a layer between himself and the family if it upset them – they'd already proven with Kurt they knew damn well how to keep the messenger out of it so Steve didn't feel guilt over asking, especially since James would have been there anyway).

 

The people of Gravity Falls were certainly treating him better than he'd expected...though Steve and the crew figured it was because they were chasing animals, not stalking people, save Alcor, but everyone by this point seemed to view that as a game.

 

The tag for tagging Alcor Steve had been sent was a regular, piercing tag, but Steve had switched it out for a clip on before he'd decided if he was going to try this or not. There were, had to be, limits to Alcor's patience, and he was still a person, demon or not (no matter how animalistic some demons seemed, Alcor was definitely a Person) and Steve wasn't going to do any permanent modifications to a sentient being...though being a demon it was hard to tell just how permanent a tag would have been. Demons were immaterial when not on this plane, how was a tag supposed to stay on in the Mindscape? How was someone supposed to tag a demon and not be immediately ripped apart?

 

Little wonder the plan hadn't worked so far. Or that they were trying to pressure other people into doing it. This was scraping the bottom of the barrel for idiot plans.

 

James was the one to tell Alcor about the whole (to both Steve and James' view, frankly idiotic) demand, since Steve wasn't comfortable talking to Alcor yet...and didn't trust himself not to go off on a tangent if he tried.

 

Steve was even considering it because of the pressure they were putting on him and because it was Alcor, who James had talked to, and who was considering the whole thing.

 

If Alcor agreed to let them use this footage, or any footage of him at all...well, it was a good thing Steve didn't care about being dignified. Alcor certainly did, but who knew, he might say yes.

 

* * *

 

Steve first found out that things were going to be crazy the day after he'd told James about the whole 'tag the demon for us' orders, had asked him to pass it along to the demon and his family and let them know what people were asking Steve to do.

 

Steve had been sitting in the tiny kitchen of the rental (like James, Steve had found it better to rent someplace where he could live and store food when he would be at a single location for possibly months at a time, and Gravity Falls had some really reasonable rates) planning out the next few episodes he'd like to shoot, maybe get some more footage of the Plaidypus and Beard Cubs for now since they wouldn't take special equipment, when there was a knock at the door.

 

Steve opened the door and nearly freaked out when he found Alcor waiting outside.

 

How was he supposed to treat the demon? James was casual with him, but James was friends with him...and James didn't forget himself in his enthusiasm and make comments about the demon's appearance or powers or whatever had caught Steve's eye that day. And Steve was still, despite his enthusiasm and occasional forgetfulness of little things like 'personal space', very aware of how dangerous Alcor was. It was what he was praising the demon for half the time!

 

Steve hadn't realized he was staring until Alcor cleared his throat and he backed away from the door quickly, stammering apologies.

 

“Jamie told me about the tagging thing,” Alcor said without preamble. Steve froze, all his protests for why he wasn't going to do it jumbling together on his tongue. “And about the clip on you got, the pressure, all the rest. I think we should have some fun with it.”

 

Steve stammered, his first thoughts completely derailed as Alcor's smirk stretched. “You've heard about the little game I have going on with Sheriff Blubs and Durland, right?” Alcor added, floating into the kitchen as Steve flailed.

 

“Um, I'd heard rumors,” Steve admitted, still at a loss for how to react to any of this. Should he apologize again for all the times he forgot himself and treated the demon like he did on camera, or maybe for even considering the whole tagging idea, but he did apologize each time he realized he was doing it and Alcor hadn't told him to stop yet, and what on earth could the demon be getting at now?

 

Well, he'd already grabbed at the demon's wings and commented on them, commented on the ears, the eyes, the teeth and claws and just about everything else, what was asking going to hurt. “Are you saying that's true, then? That the three of you...they arrest you?”

 

Alcor waved a hand. “They don't actually. It's all a game.” He looked significantly at Steve, who tilted his head as he processed all this.

 

“I already have one with Jamie,” Alcor said as Steve remained silent. “Appearing at random in his show, in the background usually. A sort of Where's the Demon deal. He gets plausible deniability, I get to have some fun.”

 

“I'm sorry, but...why not ask James to do this then?” Steve asked, noting the 'Jamie' the demon used but not ready to be that informal yet. “I mean, you're friends – not that I'm going to tell anyone outside the Falls that! – and well...I keep getting carried away. I mean, you are stunning, and I just...crud I...yeah. I forget myself.”

 

Alcor's cheeks and the tips of his ears were tinted red, the ears flickering as if in momentary embarrassment and pleasure. “It's nice to be appreciated, though a little warning before the surprise touching would be nice,” he said airily. “You're Jamie's friend, you've got more leeway than you might have guessed. Just don't push it.”

 

“Nope, not trying to push it, just get carried away!” Steve said quickly, hands up. “So...um...about the tag...I was going to refuse, even with the clip on...what exactly were you thinking?”

 

Alcor grinned, though his blush was still in full force. “Get some paper ready, we're going to make a deal.”

 

* * *

 

The deal was simple, rules laid down by Henry and Mabel and Jamie (it would have been just Mabel and Alcor, but they wanted some actually responsible adults involved, even if they weren't sure they wanted part of this beyond making sure everyone stayed safe). It boiled down, in the end, to a high stakes game of tag.

 

One Steve almost had to lose, if only to prove that it was impossible even with a demon that was humoring you and had promised not to harm anyone should he end up tagged.

 

Not that Steve was going to make it easy on Alcor.

 

He fancied himself rather good at tag, really.

 

The challenge was afoot, the rules were laid, certain people were laughing themselves sick in the background, and no one was quite sure who would win.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I could either cut this one off here or wait until I came up with tag shenanigans...and my mind has gone blank of those. So here's some set-up.


	127. Live, Laugh, Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Random idea: guy finds a stone tablet engraved with a mysterious alien language and gets caught up in a national treasure-esque adventure to decipher its meaning, only to learn that it’s just an alien “live, love, laugh” decoration
> 
> http://phenyxsnest.tumblr.com/post/157414155718/bidoof-movie-idea-guy-finds-a-stone-tablet

People believe that their way of writing will stay the same forever. That future generations will be able to read what they leave behind with the same ease with which is was written.

 

People are wrong.

 

Sometimes, as little as a hundred years can be enough to change writing so far that it needs translated.

 

A thousand years after the Transcendence had changed the world, and the same held true.

 

It could get a little frustrating, especially for someone like Arthur Tabors, who specialized in turn-of-the-Transcendence history. It was fascinating, the way they had gotten around not having magic, the legends they had created to explain away magical creatures and their deeds.

 

At the moment, he was on a dig in Gravity Falls, outside the town's original boundaries. It had grown and shifted in size and location in the years since the Transcendence, and tracing it had taken the last two years.

 

If what he had gotten together was correct, then somewhere in this area, buried underground, was a bunker, originally created by the famous Stanford Pines, later used by the entire Pines family and shared with Dr. James Gallucio.

 

If Arthur could find it...if it hadn't already been ransacked in the years since the Transcendence...what a time capsule it could be!

 

But of course there was a problem. Whenever Stanford had built this mythical bunker, he had created it to be secret and difficult to find. And by difficult, Arthur meant “damn near impossible”.

 

Most of his colleagues thought it was a myth. But, at least a few of them did agree that, myth or not, it sounded like the sort of thing the records of Stanford Pines said he would do.

 

But that was going to change. It had taken a long time, but with all his research, Arthur had finally come across the holy grail of Pines family history, buried deep in the private archives of the venerable Stanley Pines Memorial Library, an institution that had, amazing, been continued ever since the Transcendence (even if it had to be revived a few times).

 

The bribes, the sweet talk, all the work it took to get to those books – or, to be more precise, the reproductions the Pines descendants had made each time the books had begun to wear out – was worth it, as each detail was reproduced with loving detail.

 

And those details gave a map to the location of the bunker created by Stanford Pines, used by Fiddleford McGucket and James Gallucio. The exact coordinates weren't going to be precise anymore, and the old method of opening it likely to be unusable, but it existed!

 

* * *

 

It took almost a year to get all the necessary permits and permissions out of the way, and another six months of digging, before it all bore fruit.

 

A shovel struck metal, an unnatural tree nearly buried, and from there it was a matter of following it down, until they came across a metal door deep underground.

 

* * *

 

The party over that meant that most of them were moving very carefully the next morning – carefully and as quietly as possible.

 

* * *

 

It was going to take years to analyze and catalog everything found in the “Pines Bunker,” as it was titled at the start of the dig. Arthur was just grateful that time had made the various traps against intruders slow or inoperable, as they likely would have lost more than a few people to them without that stroke of luck. And the age meant that their people were injured, not dead, as some of the traps could easily have been.

 

It was like something out of an old movie, and a little hard to believe.

 

On the other hand, it was fulfilling the childhood dreams of not only Arthur, but a few of his colleagues as well, to be like Montana Martinez in all his movies.

 

Still, it was all a bit over the top. How paranoid had Dr. Stanford been?

 

* * *

 

Arthur was leaving mapping out the various rooms to the rest of his team. He was doing his favorite part of a dig, going over the artifacts pulled up from the bunker, labeling them as they were brought up and entering them into the system, scanning each with him magiscan to check for magical traces on each object and sliding the data it gave him onto his tablet, making notes as it calculated weight and dimensions on each object.

 

He frowned as he set aside yet another object he couldn't quite categorize. He knew, in an objective way, that languages changed over time, but it was still frustrating to find so many things with what had to be words painted or carved onto them but be unable to read them.

 

Arthur set down the latest object – it seemed to be something of ceramic, with a handle, and Arthur was fairly sure it was an ancient 'mug' – with a sigh. Even the 'mug' had something carved into it, and not knowing what it said was incredibly frustrating.

 

Oh, sure, there were people who specialized in ancient languages, but one this old? There couldn't be that many specialists in this, and Arthur was already sure they were backed up for years.

 

Well, there were other methods, but...hoo boy was Arthur going to get in trouble if anyone found him using those.

 

But the thought had been planted, and though Arthur shoved it to the back of his mind, he knew if he ran out of options, he was going back to that one.

 

Hell, he might go to those options even if he didn't run out...once he had the artifacts in hand, patience wasn't his strongest suit, and he wanted to know what this thing was and what was carved on it.

 

If he just sent it off as-is, without some sort of documentation for what it was and what it said, it was likely to get shelved as some kind of 'ritual item' and never translated until someone got bored.

 

Well, that wouldn't do at all, but there had to be some way to do it. Some way that didn't involve waiting years for these things to be translated but that didn't also come with risk to life and limb.

 

Arthur heaved a sigh and got back to work. He could think about how he was going to get these things translated after he had them all categorized.

 

* * *

 

Three months later and Arthur had hit a roadblock in his quest to translate all of the artifacts from the bunker.

 

He had pictures and a three dimensional scan on his tablet, able to project at a moment's notice, that he kept on him at all times. The artifacts themselves were too delicate to be hauled about with him, kept instead at his lab in temperature controlled cases until he could translate them for display.

 

Honestly, he was lucky that the facility was willing to give him this time to try and translate them.

 

...maybe he'd get lucky and someday they'd make a movie out of this, like Dipper Pines and the Montana Martinez movies!

 

Right now it certainly felt like a quest out of a bad adventure film.

 

So far, Arthur had visited his usual source for translations, and they'd come up empty. Yes, this was pre-transcendence and just-after-transcendence lettering. Yes, they normally did specialize in that era.

 

No, they weren't sure what this said. The words were too beat up, too scratched, to well used for all the words to be clear. Plus, this word here might mean this, but it could also mean that, it was all in context, did Arthur know if this was meant to be a joke phrase? A pun? Something sentimental?

 

Honestly, just because Arthur dug it up and had a pretty good clue about what it was used for didn't mean he had a clue what it said! That was why he kept bringing it to people who were supposed to know how to translate these things!

 

So that was why Arthur was currently on a road trip, with car packed full and a playlist of random songs of the last few centuries. Sooner or later, one of these leads had to pan out, and he'd find someone who could translate these...or maybe even someone who had lived then and could give him some context.

 

It was a vague hope, considering how long ago these had been used, but Arthur was sick and tired of never getting an answer and was going to find one. He had a few leads, and if nothing else, might head back to Gravity Falls for some hints.

 

* * *

 

 

Two months later, and Arthur had a bad feeling that his bosses were going to demand he come back in to the office and stop 'playing around' soon. They were being generous, since he was technically working, but still.

 

Arthur was staving it off with reports sent back whenever he could manage one, on whatever local history he found as he searched for help with his translations. There was a surprising amount he was digging up, even if it hadn't helped much with his current project yet.

 

He'd also been chased by three alligators, two mountain lions, four cults he'd accidentally disturbed in the middle of ceremonies, and three batches of angry locals (and a partridge in a pear tree, who hadn't appreciated someone attempting to eat its pears).

 

Arthur collapsed into a booth at the diner he'd seen at the side of the road, knowing he was still dirty and ragged but too hungry and tired to care at the moment. There were hotels around, and this diner was just casual enough to not care, a place for people coming off of work to get a bite, so he didn't stand out save for being an outsider.

 

He sat staring blankly at his food, starving but almost too tired to eat, until someone slid into the booth across from him, a second body, much tinier than the first, following, jolting him out of his haze.

 

Arthur's head snapped up and he stared for a moment in blank surprise at the strangers suddenly sharing his booth.

 

The man was on the shorter side, pale with warm brown eyes and soft-looking brown hair, in a polo shirt that was far too nice for this diner. The little girl was as dark as her companion was pale, tiny and with her hair done up in adorable puffs.

 

Arthur wasn't going to take their apparent ages, or their apparent humanity, at face value. That was asking for a bad shock later, even if quite a few people hadn't learned that lesson yet.

 

“Um...hello,” he said uncertainly. “Can I...help you?”

 

The two exchanges glances, already highly amused at some private joke.

 

“We heard you were looking for a translation,” the child said, and no child would have eyes that old, that much time to their voice. Arthur wasn't quite sure what either of them were, but the girl, at least, wasn't human, was too old to be human and still be that small.

 

Arthur glanced at the mirror at the back of the diner, an old advertisement for beer printed onto a mirror, and found the girl cast no reflection. She nodded at him, once, with a smirk, having obviously seen his glance to the mirror.

 

“I am,” he said cautiously. “Though I'm not sure how you know. And you seem to have me at a disadvantage, since you know who I am and what I want but I don't know the same about you.”

 

The two flashed him eerily similar sharp grins, and Arthur was sure that, even if they weren't blood, these two were siblings.

 

“Tyrone,” the man said, tilting his head to indicate the girl, “and Lucy Ann. We know Gravity Falls. We know you found the old bunker. We were around for the bunker, back when it was in use, and we don't want anything from it mistranslated. How did those traps treat you, by the way? Those still working?”

 

Lucy Ann was smirking, and Arthur got the impression Tyrone cared more than she did.

 

Still, he hesitated. Just saying that was what they wanted didn't mean they weren't going to mistranslate on purpose or something else...

 

Arthur started to make his excuses, offer to meet with them elsewhere and perhaps discuss this later. Then Tyrone winked, that human-brown eye flipping to gold on black for a split second, and Arthur froze.

 

“It's a...personal interest,” Tyrone said calmly as Arthur's mind spun in terrified circles, warning sirens blazing. As if he could sense Arthur's freakout, Tyrone grinned, sphinxlike. “Perhaps you'd be more comfortable if we...made a proper deal? Somewhere a little less public than this?”

 

“I dunno, maybe I want to be in public so you won't eat me,” Arthur blurted out, clapping his hands over his mouth in horror a second after the words left.

 

Lucy Ann snorted and Tyrone looked highly disgruntled as Arthur tried to stammer out an apology.

 

“You try and do something nice for somebody...” he grumbled. Lucy Ann snorted again and elbowed him.

 

“You had that coming and you know it,” she tossed back. “Look, buddy, I don't really care, but this dork does. You really gonna tell him no when he wants to make a fair deal with you?”

 

“I...you're right, let's go somewhere more private,” Arthur managed to say. Tyrone waved a hand at Arthur's food, setting it to steaming again.

 

“Na, you eat, that's important for humans, right?” he said. “We'll meet you there.”

 

With that, the two stood, and though Arthur watched them leave like people, he was fairly sure they didn't pretend to be human much farther than the diner's door, and he wasn't sure he had much of an appetite.

 

* * *

 

Arthur managed to finish his meal, and his excitement and nervousness both grew as he ate.

 

There was only one demon that could take human form at will...unless Tyrone was being possessed, which was also a possibility...but if it was...no, he was getting ahead of himself again.

 

Make sure of just who and what he was dealing with first, then he could see where this went. He just hoped he came out of it with all parts intact.

 

Seeing as this was a demon, putting it off or trying to run were just going to make it angry, as far as Arthur could figure.

 

Hopefully he was right about what demon this was, or this was going to turn ugly. It still could, even if he was right about what demon it was.

 

Arthur closed the door of his hotel room behind him and breathed a sigh of relief. Empty.

 

Just as he began to relax, dropping to sit on the hotel bed, the door to the bathroom clicked open, and the little girl from before strolled out, grinning at the look on Arthur's face.

 

“I'm old,” she said when he sputtered, trying to demand how she got in here. “It comes with a few perks. This isn't your place, so I didn't need invited in.” She flashed the keycard to his room at Arthur, still grinning. “Plus, being given the key says it's as much mine as yours right now. Only works when you're as old as I am, but hey. Here I am.”

 

Arthur buried his head in his hands and groaned before shooting back up, remembering that there was a vampire in the room, taking his eyes off it was a bad idea no matter how friendly she was being at the moment.

 

There was a soft displacement of air, a vague stirring of the currents of cool air being forced out by the ancient air conditioner, and Arthur glanced over to find the demon hovering there, watching him.

 

No theatrics. No circle. No deal. No chants or sacrifices or words. Just one moment, empty air, and the next, a demon.

 

That was more frightening, in its own calm, collected, efficient way, than all the theatrics, to Arthur's way of thinking. And it pretty much confirmed what Arthur had suspected about the demon's identity. Only one demon was currently powerful enough to pull off a stunt like that.

 

The demon dropped onto the bed opposite Arthur's, bouncing a little as he landed, solid and physical, one last giveaway, a physical body made so simply.

 

He crossed his legs and laced his fingers over his knee, watching Arthur as he spoke. “Okay. Here's what's going to happen. You need someone to accurately translate things you found in Stanford Pines' bunker. I also want them translated properly. So, you're going to offer me something, and in return, I'll translate them accurately. No fakery, no pretending that they mean something other than what they do, just a straight, honest translation.”

 

“I...really?” Arthur said, watching the demon half distrustfully but with rising hope. “I...what sort of thing would you want in return? I'm not about to give up my soul or anything...”

 

“Use your imagination,” Alcor urged.

 

Arthur's mind raced. He didn't deal with demons, did his best to stay far, far away from them, despite having worked so hard to do an excavation in Gravity Falls, the home of the most powerful demon in the world.

 

Probably should have done some research into Alcor, in hindsight. But with so many people in Gravity Falls, how was he to suspect the demon would take an interest in his particular project?

 

“Um...let's see...” he said, grateful the demon in question still looked amused and the vampire even more so, rather than being impatient as he didn't offer a price. “Usually I'd offer to have my translator credited, but I doubt you'd want that...”

 

“Would probably make people question you, though it could work,” Alcor said, uncrossing and recrossing his legs opposite how they'd been. “People will already question who translated it for you.”

 

Lucy Ann elbowed the demon in the side as Arthur panicked. What did one offer the most powerful demon in the world for a translation?

 

“I have a copy of  _The Manual of Practical Invocation_ ,” Arthur said after a moment. “Would that along with crediting your, ah, human alias or even you, should I find a way to make that work, be sufficient?”

 

Alcor's ears pricked up at the mention of the book. “That one's tough to get your hands on,” he commented. “Yet not so tough that it's unfair. You're better at this than you think, but don't get any ideas. I'm going easy on you. It's a deal.”

 

A brief handshake and a flare of blue fire that had Arthur checking his hand, to Alcor's amusement, sealed the deal.

 

“Do you need to see the actual artifact?” Arthur asked anxiously as his copy of _The Manual of Practical Invocation_ appeared in the demon's hands, flipped through for a moment before it disappeared in a puff of blue smoke, and he sincerely hoped the demon hadn't just destroyed it. “Because those are back at the institute for safekeeping, I've been using these 3D models...”

 

“The models should be fine, given they're accurate,” Alcor said with a wave of his hand, ignoring Lucy Ann's snort and commentary of “Cocky bastard.”

 

Arthur decided the safest course was not to acknowledge the aside and bring up the 3D models for the demon.

 

Alcor took a good look at them and burst out laughing. “Oh, man, I forgot all about those!” he said cheerfully, twisting the 3D model around to see all of it. “Lucy Ann, check it out!”

 

Lucy Ann obligingly leaned closer, faintly smirking. “So many generations of dork,” she commented solemnly.

 

Alcor glanced up at Arthur, still grinning. “You know this is a mug, right? 'Cuz you don't usually put really meaningful things on mugs.”

 

“So it is a mug,” Arthur said, making a note on the tablet. “I thought so but there were some doubters. Which is silly, the designs of mugs haven't changed that much even with all the time that's passed. Go on.”

 

Lucy Ann and Alcor exchanged another glance. “Right...well, the inscription on this one says “I'm The Reason We Can't Have Nice Things”,” Alcor said after that brief moment. “I warned you,” he said when Arthur looked up at him incredulously. “I doubt it's going to get better from there. Gr – ahem, Stanford didn't really do decoration, so anything of his is likely something he got free or science themed, but Ja – Dr. Gallucio liked to put up a few things like that. Silly things.”

 

Arthur didn't miss the near slips, the casual way Alcor spoke of the two as if he'd known them personally, but forgot it quickly in the rush to find out more.

 

Alcor took a deep, probably unnecessary, breath, and held out a hand for the other models.

 

* * *

 

Several years later, the “Pines Bunker” exhibit finally opened, and small plaques by the exhibits explained what they said and what they meant. A smaller plaque credited their translation to “Tyrone and Lucy Ann Pines”, and only a few knew exactly why 'Tyrone' was so accurate in his translations.

 

It was better that way.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this month is Nanowrimo. I've done (and won) Nano for the past ten years, and I'm doing it again this year - but I have very little prep done and no clue where this story is going. So work on this is going to grind to a near halt.  
> I'm planning to start posting Psychic Singularity at the beginning of December, so Tales of a Dreambender will be taking a short hiatus during at least part of that, so I can rebuild a buffer. I'm only planning a hiatus, not to stop. PS isn't 100% done, but it's 90%, and I've been teasing it long enough I want to get it going.  
> Also, sorry this wasn't more of Taming the Wild. I got stuck, and this finally got finished instead. Hard to tell what's going to get words flowing sometimes.


	128. Nice Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the Cards Against Humanity chat, where we brought up Alcor in high heels. It was awhile back, but it finally got written.

Dipper appeared in the circle piece by piece, assembling his body from the smoke of his entrance.

 

It was only partially for show. He was still pretty fresh off a series of rejections, a series of bad decisions and being in a bad place mentally, and though he had not only a new Mizar but also her friends and the reincarnations of several loved ones helping him to recover, the summons lately had almost all been of the bad sort, the type that could so easily send him spiraling back down.

 

So it was still taking a bit of concentration to create his mostly human form.

 

Dipper hoped this wasn't going to be another one of those bad summons as he finished forming and got a good look at his summoner. He wasn't sure how many of those he could take at the moment.

 

Huh. A Ford reincarnation. Well, that could go a myriad of ways, all things considered.

 

A professor, his mind supplied. Of Demonology, which explained the professional grade circles – and the way she was looking at him.

 

“Dreambender,” she said crisply when he stayed quiet, not giving his usual opening line as she obviously expected. “I am Professor Rachel Lievesley, and I request to make a deal with you.”

 

Dipper grinned, flipping onto his stomach in midair and letting his wings flip out to balance him. “Oh, really? What'cha lookin for? Books? Information? The price can get pretty steep, you know...”

 

“I need protection,” Rachel interrupted him, and Dipper almost snapped back, almost made her pay for interrupting him, but that was a demon thought, not a good thought, so Dipper shoved it down. He paused, taking a closer look at his summoner.

 

At first glance, she looked calm and collected and put together, but the illusion vanished the closer he looked. She had makeup covering the dark circles under her eyes, her hair was uncombed in its bun, and she looked like she hadn't rested properly in ages.

 

“Whoa, thought you stopped with the all-nighters three lifetimes ago,” Dipper commented, sitting up properly in his circle. “What's up buttercup?”

 

Rachel blinked a few times at the ancient phrase before continuing, and it was obvious Dipper had thrown her off her game a touch. “I broke up with Don Rivard three months ago – and no, I don't want back at him for anything!” she added quickly before Dipper could get upset. “I want him to leave me alone,” she continued, slightly calmer. “He's been sending things after me, little things to haunt me and leave me jumping at shadows, and he's got money and influence, so he's using those against me too. No one will believe me, they just claim I'm trying to ruin his reputation.”

 

“And you want me to do what exactly?” Dipper asked, tilting his head, knowing full well that the light was catching his eyes and making them glow like a cat's.

 

Rachel took a deep breath. “I've been paying attention,” she said. “I know you're currently in one of your more human stages, even if it is a bit shaky. I want you to find out how he's sending things after me and stop him. I want you to make him leave me alone. I'm willing to trade the good memories of our relationship for it.”

 

Dipper tilted his head, considering. There were so many ways he could interpret that request, but which to take...this was Ford's reincarnation, he should try and be nice, she was asking for help...

 

“Oh, and these,” Rachel said, reaching for a box on the nearby table. “He tried to buy me off with gifts while we were dating, to make me forget the rest of his behavior. This is one of the few I liked.”

 

Dipper let out a low whistle at the sight of the shoes she held out. “Those are some _nice_ shoes,” he said.

 

Rachel allowed herself a small smile. “They're Louboutins,” she said. “I mean, I don't wear heels, so they're utterly impractical, but just _look_ at them.”

 

“You've got yourself a deal,” Dipper said, holding out a hand to seal it. A flash of blue fire later and he held the shoes. “Okay, I have to.”

 

A snap, and the demon's dress shoes were replaced by the Louboutins. “Hmm, not quite right...” he said. “Oh, I know!”

 

Another snap, and the dapper suit swirled away, replaced by a halter style dress. The halter itself was black, while the bottom half was sparkling gold, the gold coming up to a point mid-chest on Dipper.

 

He gave a little spin, the dress sparkling, and Rachel applauded despite herself. “They look better on you than they did on me,” she said.

 

“Aw, thank you!” Dipper said happily. “Now, I'll just go take care of that ex of yours.” He tossed a smile back over his shoulder as he gave one last twirl, a large, sharp one. “Don't you worry, he won't be bothering you again.”

 

“Um, don't kill him, okay? I'm having enough trouble without everyone thinking I sent someone after him.”

 

Dipper gave her a flippant salute. “Don't you worry none. I've got this. Be seeing you around, Rachel.”

 

“Wait, what do you mean...” Rachel said quickly, cut off as the demon disappeared, “you'll be seeing me? What have I gotten myself into...”

 

* * *

 

Don Rivard stared at his screen. There was something he was doing...what was it?

 

Oh, well, if he couldn't remember than it couldn't have been important.

 

He looked down at his screen again. Rachel Lievesley...? Why was he...? They broke up, why was he...? It felt like static in his mind each time he tried to remember what he was doing, looking her up.

 

With a shrug, he closed the program on his screen. He had real things to take care of.

 

Under his desk, the imps he'd summoned giggled. Alcor had ignored them when he'd visited, but the wink he'd given them in passing told them everything.

 

The demon had no interest in them. But the demon had made Rivard forget he had a debt to pay and when they came to collect...the demon wasn't going to help him remember.

 

In the mindscape, Dipper gave another little twirl to watch his skirt flare and twinkle and looked down at his new shoes.

 

He might just stick around to watch the fun. After all, why not enjoy his new shoes and get a show?

 

...he couldn't wait to show Mizar!

 


	129. Taming the Wild Pt 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one isn't as finished as I'd like - I want to do more shenanigans, but I couldn't think of any. But, as I announced before, as of next week ToAD is going to be going on haitus while I post (and finish) Psychic Singularity, and I didn't want to leave ya'll hanging without some of them at least.
> 
> Please note, Tales isn't over - or at least, I don't plan for them to be, I have more in stories in progress for here. This is a hiatus, not an ending. I simply have been teasing Singularity for so long, it needs posted, and it'll give me a chance to build up some buffer for here. I'll hopefully see you all back here when Singularity is over, and I hope you enjoy it too. :)

* * *

 

As arranged back when he began filming, Steve dropped off the videos for his show before he sent them off. He hovered as everyone gathered, bringing together snacks and settling down in the living room.

 

“You want to stay?” James asked, pausing to look at Steve curiously.

 

“I...kinda? I mean, I don't think I filmed anyone or anything that would piss anyone off, and I'd like to get the crit right away, but...?”

 

“Come on in, they won't really tone it down but they won't be cruel unless you really broke those rules we set out before,” James said, gesturing as he walked towards the living room for Steve to follow. “There's notebooks for later, so don't worry about missing something.”

 

“Gosh, that's so reassuring...” Steve muttered, following anyway. May as well get it straight from the source – and he really, really wanted to hear what these people had to say, even as he dreaded it.

 

* * *

 

The opening – cautioning watchers that Steve was as much as of a professional as one could be when it came to the paranormal, so they should not approach supernatural creatures in the wild, and that due to the controversial nature of the program and the high chance of injury, viewer caution was advised – was approved by nearly everyone in the room, save Stan, who grumbled about people being idiot enough to need a warning.

 

They marathoned them, since Steve had already finished half a season. The commentary was light and generally positive, with some good advice sprinkled in, since Steve had kept his word and stuck to the actual animal species of the Falls.

 

Then, after a brief break for dinner, came the episode Steve had been dreading.

 

The first episode with a section on Alcor the Dreambender.

 

* * *

 

“Viewers are cautioned that this episode will be more controversial than most,” Steve's voice announced through the speakers, and attention was drawn back to the screen. “We here on _Amazing Encounters_ believe demons to be out of our league. They are sentient, sapient, and not animals, so we've avoided them – for our own benefit as well as theirs. But we've been pressured into attempting the impossible – tagging a demon to track their movements and learn more about them. Please note that this type of activity is a 99% guarantee of maiming, mutilation, and death. That last 1% is what we have encountered – Alcor the Dreambender, a challenge, and a deal. For the demon, pride is on the line, and while he has agreed to do no permanent harm, no one else should ever attempt such a stunt.”

 

(“Nice,” Pacifica commented. “Managed to get across how much you don't want to do this while saying why you would. I've been looking forward to this,” she added, grinning evilly at Dipper.

 

Dipper rolled his eyes and didn't bother to reply.)

 

On-screen, Steve was still talking, against a backdrop of the Gravity Falls forest. “I would like to remind everyone once again that Alcor is aware of us, and is amused by the idea of us trying to tag him enough to let us try without repercussions. Permanent ones, at least. No other demon is going to be so accommodating, and you shouldn't think that even Alcor is going to be! This situation is far from normal!”

 

(“Good job on the warnings, dude,” Wendy commented, snagging a huge handful of popcorn. “I mean, a lot of people aren't going to listen, but you can't say you didn't try.”

 

Steve stuffed his own mouth full of popcorn before he could say anything embarrassing in response.)

 

The camera person and Steve were hiding in bushes, looking out into a park, where Alcor was relaxing – though everyone in the room noticed that Dipper was alone, no children in sight. Steve had said before he didn't involve kids in this, or anyone sapient, without their permission, but sometimes it was hard to believe it until you had the proof.

 

Steve pointed at Alcor through the bushes, whispering. “Sometimes, the Dreambender spends time in the sunlight, like the cat he resembles. He does this often enough the people of Gravity Falls tend to ignore him.” He held up the tag and took a deep breath. “Time to put that deal to the test.”

 

With that, Steve leapt out of the bushes and tackled Alcor, who let out a surprised yelp.

 

(The video had to be paused so everyone in the room, save Steve and Dipper, could stop laughing.)

 

The two rolled onto the ground off the bench before Alcor disappeared, reappearing with a little 'pop' floating over Steve and out of reach.

 

“Really?” he said, crossing his arms and smirking. “That was your big plan?”

 

Steve sat up, brushing leaves out of his hair. “Under the scientific method, the most obvious solutions need to be tried first,” he said seriously. “Can't knock it unless you try it. Otherwise everyone would just keep asking why I didn't do it.”

 

Alcor snorted, looking down at Steve, trying to hold a serious face until he broke and laughed so hard he ended up curling up on himself, cackling for longer than he should have been able if he'd needed air, before rolling his eyes and disappearing again.

 

He flickered back into existence just long enough to boop Steve on the nose.

 

* * *

 

In the Pines living room, they'd had to pause the video to tease Steve and Dipper as well as stop laughing before they could watch the next clip.

 

“Are these going to be all one episode?” Wendy asked, leaning back against the couch to look up at Steve.

 

“Well, we were debating if we should put all of them together into a single episode or space them out,” Steve replied. “You saw my warning I recorded? I'm winning the argument so it's all one episode right now. It seems to make more sense that way, so I went ahead and got it pieced together. Gotta wait for the editors for the real work though. But there's enough it might be two or three episodes in total.”

 

“Makes sense,” Wendy shrugged, turning back to the tv. Henry, who'd been waiting patiently for them to stop talking (more patiently than some) hit the play button.

 

There was brief static, the pause between two sections of video, before the screen cleared to a new video.

 

* * *

 

The watching continued with another break for dinner, well into the evening. Occasionally there would be someone they recognized from town, giving commentary on Dipper and his actions or Steve and Dipper as they chased each other. (Steve was quick to let everyone know he had already cleared those commentaries with the people involved, he had the paperwork to prove it, and they were okay right? Considering it was all snark, all glee on the screen, everyone obviously enjoying themselves, it was agreed to be perfectly fine – so long as it stayed that way.)

 

* * *

 

“Joining me, I have Sheriffs Blubs and Durland of the Gravity Falls Police. The Sheriffs have their own game going with The Dreambender, and they want to try a round of my game with the demon. I can't say I'm not going to appreciate the help.”

 

A passing resident of Gravity Falls called out as they passed, “You boys can do this!”

 

“...thanks for the vote of confidence. We just might need it.”

 

It became obvious fairly soon into the video that Blubs and Durland had more experience with capturing this particular demon.

 

It was also fairly obvious they were used to him playing along.

 

The two chased the cackling demon down the street, Alcor flying just high enough to be out of range of the overlarge butterfly nets the sheriffs were wielding.

 

Coming to the fountain in the center of the town square, he feinted left and zipped right, and the chasing pair tumbled over each other into the fountain. The demon dashed down and back out of reach in an instant, and the camera zoomed in long enough to see the clip on tags Alcor had left on their ears.

 

Steve came in from the side, taking both himself and the demon into the water with a splash all out of proportion. The demon hauled himself out of the water, sputtering and shaking his head like an offended cat, just as eager to be out of the water.

 

He tumbled to the ground outside the fountain and turned back to Steve, who was sitting up in the shallow water – with an tag dangling merrily on his ear as the audience they had all gathered laughed at their antics.

 

* * *

 

Onscreen, the camera peeked through bushes at a clearing. There was a small pile of candy in the center of the clearing, with a Snackers bar on top (“They'll be blurring out the names during editing,” Steve commented. “Copyright and all.”

 

“And all being, no one wants the candy the demon likes,” Dipper muttered from his position floating above the couch, to agreeing noises from everyone else.) and a trail of candy leading from the box out into the woods.

 

Over the pile of candy was a large box, balanced on a stick, with runes along the sides.

 

The camera turned to look at Steve, who shrugged. “I know it's ridiculous and juvenile, but it's all I got right now,” he said, frank and honestly a bit amused. “I'm low on ideas.”

 

As if on cue, a demon came floating out of the woods, a pile of candy floating behind him as each successive piece floated up to join them. He was chewing on more candy, an open bar of it in his hand, and looked exceedingly pleased with himself.

 

He was also making a pleased little hum for each new piece of candy. (In the Shack, everyone burst out laughing, including Steve and Dipper. The whole thing was just too ridiculous not to.)

 

Alcor paused at the edge of the clearing, looking at the candy pile. He looked at them, at the half-hidden box, at the prop holding it up, and then his eyes scanned the bushes. He caught the camera, somehow, giving it a dry look before floating the candy out from under the box and into his floating pile.

 

Steve pulled on the rope and a net, hidden under leaves and bits of plants, shot up around the shocked demon. The candy fell as he lost his concentration, trapped in the enchanted strands of the net, yowling like a startled cat.

 

The net bounced once, twice before it settled, twisting slightly as Alcor squirmed to look indignantly at Steve as he came out of the bushes.

 

His form flickered, but to his obvious surprise, Alcor didn't blip out of the net.

 

“Unicorn hair,” Steve said, a little smugly. “Not much, but enough, right? Man was that hard to get, they bargain hard.”

 

In the net, Alcor crossed his arms. “Yeah, they're kinda jerks, right? Mizar punched one in the face once.”

 

Steve failed to conceal his grin. “She did? That's awesome! *ahem* Sooo...” he said, catching himself before he could go off on a tangent and holding up the tag, “ready for some new jewelry?”

 

Alcor tapped his chin, still mostly upside down. (“Could you be any more dramatic?” Pacifica teased, tossing popcorn at Dipper.) “Hmmm, I don't think so,” he said, grinning.

 

A second later he was a cat, climbing his way up the inside of the net and out the small opening at the top. Alcor the cat jumped, claws barely catching in the tree bark, hauling himself up to the branch the net had been tied on.

 

“...made me drop my candy,” he grumped softly, the candy on the ground swirling around in a small tornado before rising to join him. Alcor leaned over on the branch, still in cat form, grinning widely. “Thanks for the candy!”

 

With that, he disappeared. The camera stayed still on the scene for another minute before swinging to a dry erase board the cameraperson must have been holding, with the score: Demon: 10 Steve: 0.

 


End file.
